Scarlet Letter
by Valkyrien
Summary: It's been a few months since what was almost the end of the world and things have changed. Can the return of an old enemy set off the chain of events needed for everyone to move on? Romy, Jonda, Lancitty and various others as story progresses.
1. Chance Encounter?

_**DISCLAIMER:**_

_**I own nothing. If I owned anything, I'd never leave the house again. I'd just sit on my arse and wait for the royaties to start rolling in. Alas, I am poor and leave the house frequently to combat said poverty. There's no ownership here.**_

_**~******************************************************************************************************************************~**_

_**~ Scarlet Letter ~**_

_**A Chance Encounter..?**_

The deep crimson trench coat billowed out around her booted ankles, her head turning this way and that to properly take in her surroundings. The music playing was only to keep the crowds pacified until the warm-up band came on, she knew. Manowar's _Metal Warriors_. Typical party-starter. The drunker ones were already singing along, and she made a note of their position; best to avoid people like that. Possible grabbiness. She found a spot where she reckoned it wouldn't be to hard to hold her own and stood there hugging herself, arms sheathed in fishnet opera gloves and torso covered in soft black cotton that was nigh see-through in the fluorescent lighting emanating from the stage area. Underneath her bra was vinyl, if one cared to look closely. She was banking on noone doing that. Hoping, even. Tonight was for her.

This was one concert she couldn't miss, her fear of crowds and recent experiences be damned. Wanda had been supposed to come with her but the Scarlet Witch was still coming to terms with the aftermath of Apocalypse's defeat and the reconnecting she had been doing with Pietro, her no-longer-quite-so-estranged brother. Rogue totally understood that, after all, she'd been doing her share of bonding with Kurt and she wanted nothing more than for Wanda to reach the level of familal love the two of them now had. Kurt was far from the annoying bratty fuzzball she'd sometimes seen him to be. He was caring and considerate and he valued her above all other things, claiming that nothing had ever made him happier than coming to know her as his sister. If Wanda and Pietro could start being civil and see that there was love there, she knew they'd have a shot at the same sort of happiness. After all, they even had psychotic parents in common. Smiling covertly, she swept her gaze over the gathering masses and was glad she had decided to come. After her attack on Apocalypse that saved the human race she had been withdrawn, drained, and somehow newly empowered as well. She was stronger physically than she had been, and she wondered if that was just the energetic build up from containing Apocalypse or some new side of her original mutation showing it's face. It really didn't matter anyway, not now. She actually felt safe for once, and it was good to be feeling 'empty-headed' for a change...

_**~**************************************************************************************************~**_

Strangely coloured hair was not exactly a novelty at any metal concert, but auburn framed in two white stripes was a combination he hadn't seen anywhere else even with all the travelling he'd done, and wasn't likely to ever forget. He was just waiting for her to turn so he could see the colour of the eyes those bangs hid from his immediate view because he'd be willing to bet someone else's easily stolen fortune that they were the same as emeralds and as lovely as the ocean. He should know, growing up surrounded by water and swiping all manner of precious gems and the like for a living. Had to admit he'd never seen any gem hued quite like that. Roiling depths of green moss over hard-cut precious green stones tinted with just a little of the Mediterranean Sea. Eyes like that were hard to forget and the Gods only knew how he'd tried.

_**~*****************************************************************************************~**_

The warm up band had been crap but there was no way she was leaving her spot so she mainly stood there swaying with the excited crowds pressing in around her, focusing on maintaining her control. That was another thing Apocalypse had done for her. Her psyche was scourged not only of all the other voices and memories she didn't know or care to, it was clear of self-doubt at last, and she had been spending every free moment with the professor trying to learn how to use that to her advantage. So far they had mainly worked through the personal issues connected with the betrayals of the past and the latent anger and aggression that had been her only shield for years now, but they were making some small headway into the matter of her powers. Not that she had any semblance of control, that wasn't yet an option, but she had come to terms with them and learnt to lock away the other psyches when they threatened to overwhelm her upon absorption. Turning slightly she saw something faintly familiar in the crowd but couldn't place it. It had been a glimpse of someone's hair and she wondered briefly why that should be familiar, musing that maybe she knew someone with the same hair colour or something, a deep coppery chestnut hue, and for unknown reasons it sent a little shiver down her spine. Not an unpleasant one, more a sort of flighty, apprehensive shiver, as though foretelling some pleasant thing to come yet warning of it's nature. Shaking it off, she decided to have a little break from Logan over the next few days. The paranoia must be catching – now she was starting to feel watched.

_**~*****************************************************************************************~**_

He couldn't really say he hadn't thought of this. Somewhere in his mind there'd always been a little voice asking him how likely it was that he'd run into her or at least catch a guilty glimpse if he came back, and going to a metal concert when he knew her tastes was just tempting every fate there was. He dearly hoped Lady Luck was smiling on him because he had no idea what might happen if she was made aware of his presence, and he didn't feel much inclined to make it felt just yet. He carried fond, if rather bitter memories of their last meeting – or rather, their last parting – and he wasn't sure what her reaction to seeing him might be. If anything, he carried strong feelings of hope that it would be something that did not in any way involve screaming, insults or randomly flying objects directed towards his person in general, not that he thought it too likely that last scenario would come to pass. After all, they'd parted on fairly good terms, had they not? Surely he shouldn't be this worried, surely he could shrug it off like he did most other things and come back to the ever-relevant words _'C'est la vie'_? But he found it difficult to escape the raging unease that threatened to overpower him just by watching her from afar, and he fought to keep the energy contained beneath his skin from breaking free of his carefully built up control. Damn but it was hard. He knew already that his night would be spent watching her rather than enjoying himself – he would not admit that the two were one and the same thing in the end.

_**~*****************************************************************************************~**_

She'd managed to keep the paranoia at bay during the main show and now there was a pleasant adrenaline buzz coursing through her. She felt light as air despite the heavily-booted feet and the oppressing hordes of people all trying to move though the exits in a less than orderly fashion. Laughing quietly to herself, she thought about what Scott might have to say about it if they were ever so disorganised at home – probably things the younger members shouldn't know what meant. Amused by the mental image she slipped out into the streets beyond the crowded space just outside the entrance to the venue and began to put as much distance as possible between herself and the place. Not for any particular sense of being crushed by the people around her, but more because the night air was crisp and clean and she wanted the tranquillity of the near-empty city outskirts to envelop her, to feel like a shadow and escape them all for once.

She set a brisk pace, happy and almost high from the experience she'd just come through, and the wind tore at her hair and coat, making her feel like she was flying instead of walking along the poorly lit streets of an industrial part of town. Up ahead there was someone leaning against a lamppost and she slowed up a little, approaching with caution that came of several abductions and a lot of Logan's daily influence. She saw a dark coat much like her own and shoulder-length hair blowing in the wind that made her think it was probably another concertgoer waiting for a mate, but drawing closer she thought she recognised the posture - the way he seemed to lounge even supported by something as uncomfortable as a vertical metal pole. Ten steps away, she saw the eyes, and it finally clicked. Deep red irises shone out from under an unruly rich brown mop of hair, longer than when she had last seen it, a half-smile curling itself around the full-lipped mouth. Not mocking, not morphing into a cheeky grin, a sincere expression of what appeared to be happiness. She stopped in her tracks, her face arranging itself into a disbelieving mask of recognition, and she reached out a hand as he straightened himself out, towering over her but too far away to touch.

"_Gambit..?_"

_**~*****************************************************************************************~**_

He squared his shoulders and let his arms drop to his sides, feeling at once elated and unsure of himself.

"_Oui, c'est moi..._ 'Ave y' forgotten ma real name, _Chere_?"

She seemed a little overwhelmed, and her voice was unsteady when she answered,

"No, Ah jus' didn' think you'd wan' me callin' y' by your real name..."

He smiled a little more at the sweetness of the South in her words. It still worsened when she was uncertain, it seemed, or at least he hoped so, he also remembered it used to thicken in anger too...

"Remy ain' workin', an' he'd like notin more den t' have his name spoken by _de beaucoup belle femme_ dat ever lived," he said sincerely, trying to convey the depth of his feeling.

She smiled widely and came closer, now no more than an arm's reach from him. He mentally forbade his arm from moving anywhere near her. He could almost hear his subconscious curse him for it.

"You're the same ol' Cajun, huh?" she laughed, "Where ya been all this time? It got kinda lonely round here with no one to come kidnap a gal!"

He grinned then, his face lighting up and rekindling that little shiver she'd felt earlier. "Remy's been around, but he couldn' stay away forever," he said with the hint of a chuckle. "Had a little business t' take care of, an' now he's back t' stay."

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms under her – and back to the eyes, sparkling with mirth. "Yeah sure, fer now, y' are," she said lightly, a little sliver of accusation in her tone.

"He is, Rogue... _C'est une promesse, ma chere_," he assured her, and she flicked her hair out of her eyes and said,

"Whateva ya say – _Remy_... Got a place t' crash?"

Her experimental use of his given name jolted him for a moment, and he stored away the sound of it in the recesses of his mind for future reference.

"Not fer certain, but Remy'll figure it out sure 'nough," he said easily, a flare of joy in the back of his mind at the supposition that she'd asked because she cared about whether or not he was on the streets.

"Well ya don' have to – y'all could come back an' crash with me; that's if ya don' mind sleepin' on the floor," she winked at him and he grinned even wider.

"Of course not, _ma chere_, Remy appreciates de offer right enough," he said, trying to sound politely grateful for her generosity instead of eager as all hell to make good on it.

"An' y' gotta promise ta be on your best behaviour, y' gettin' that?" He nodded, bowing low over the gloved hand he'd taken from her and lightly kissing the back of it.

"_Oui, ma chere_, dis Cajun'll be de best houseguest y' ever saw," he promised, righting himself to see an amused grin spread over her face.

"Righ', well then let's get home, shall we?"

_**~*****************************************************************************************~**_


	2. Bedtime Stories

_**DISCLAIMER: I own an extensive collection of CDs and books and far too many pairs of boots but I own no characters or anything else portrayed here except the raw fictional material. Seriously think I'd ever leave my bedroom if I owned Gambit?**_

_**~***************************************************************************************~**_

_**~ Scarlet Letter~**_

_**Bedtime Stories.**_

Getting home hadn't been an issue, he'd come by bike as was his preferred mode of transport, and seated behind him she seemed perfectly at ease with that. He didn't even start to have second thoughts until they actually pulled up at the institute and she'd punched in the security codes to allow them in. Even then the voice in his head cautioning him to refuse her offer kindly and leave now that he knew she was home safely was quelled by the look in her eyes. She led him up the stairs to her imposing home after parking his bike behind some bushes and taking him by the arm to lead him in, and he had a moment's doubt.

"_Chere_ – not dat Remy ain' sore pleased and grateful for y' offer of hospitality, but ain' dis gonna mean trouble for y'?" he asked, pitching his voice low, and she shrugged.

"Face facts – Ah cain' touch you anyhow an' the street ain' no place for the Prince of Thieves so Ah don't see a problem with it," she said flatly, and he nodded.

"Guess y're right dere, _ma belle_," he said, following her up to her room.

The mansion was bigger inside than he'd thought at first, and it turned out that Rogue had chosen a secluded corridor slightly off the beaten track for her new room once she and Kitty had decided it was time they got the privacy they needed. He had few complaints. Just as he had few when she conjured a sleeping bag from a closet and a mountain of pillows from a corner of her room and told him to bed down while she got the stench of crowds off her. He shed his trench coat and boots and put them neatly next to his makeshift bed, deciding that it was unlikely she'd mind if he slept in his boxers and the black T-shirt he'd been wearing at the concert. She returned from her en suite bathroom in a full-length black night-gown made of something soft-looking and informed him the facilities were now his for the using, and once he was in there he had a sudden fit of complete and utter panic. He barely knew this _femme_, he'd kidnapped and used her, had his powers sampled unwillingly by her twice although never through her own wish for it to happen, and here he was about to spend the night sleeping next to her bed? Was it not all just a little surreal? He took a few cleansing breaths and washed his face, noting that she kept a stack of individual washcloths next to the sink and using one of those to dry off before putting it in the laundry basket. He was at least determined to be a good guest, even if he couldn't quite believe he was even getting the opportunity to do so.

_**~*****************************************************************************************~**_

She was sat up in her bed looking fantastic - although different without makeup – when he came out, and he felt suddenly shy and began to thank her again for letting him stay, but she silenced him with a shake of her head and a smile.

"Ah don' wanna hear it Cajun. Only reason you're up here with me is because Ah do wanna hear all about what you've been doin' while the rest of us was out savin' the world."

To mask the uncertainty he felt he made a show out of settling down on the mound of pillows next to her bed and stretching out. What to tell her? Tell her nothing was obviously the best plan. Or tell her the barest minimum of facts and hope she'd make do with that. Maybe tell her the heroic version of events? But would she even buy that? It seemed unlikely, but he was willing to give it a shot, if only because that was the closest to the truth he could give her and he wanted to repay her somehow. He didn't want to lie to her again, that was his old mistake, and Remy LeBeau learnt from his mistakes. He hoped...

"Remy been out tryin' t' save it jus' de same as you, _chere_," he said with a gesture of his hand that for once didn't result in him holding a playing card.

"Yeah, righ', that's why nobody's seen you since I left you in that swamp you dragged me to," she snorted and rolled her eyes at him, something he generally found annoying in a woman, but which she managed to make charming.

"Remy be tellin' _sa chere belle_ de truth, Rogue, he been out doin' battle wit' de bad guys for once. Y' not proud o' him?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Ah don' trust him to tell me straight what's been goin' on with him," she elaborated, and he sighed dramatically.

"Y' got Remy dere. He ain' been too honest wit y' in de past, _hein_? _Je suis desolé, ma chere_... Remy had time t' tink about what he did t' y' an' he' couldn' be more sorry... Y' deserved better. He shoulda told y' de truth an' trusted y' t' handle it." He decided to take a chance, adding, "Remy came back here t' see how y' were doin'..."

She sighed and blew a few stray strands of hair out of her face, shrugging. "Ah don't think much has changed... Magneto's havin' some kinda total regression to a past lahfe or somethin' – he's spendin' all his time with the Professor an' he's even been tryin' t' get closer t' Pietro an' Wanda even though they're still tryin' t' make things work out with each other too. We haven' seen Mystique aroun' fer a long time an Ah hope she just crawled off somewhere an' _died_, t' be honest... Guess that makes me a real nice person, huh? Even though Ah'm not a murderer anymore..." She paused, then went on,

"Logan's not home s' much anymore, he's out makin' sure everythin' stays peaceful fer a while. Jean and Scott have been real pains in mah ass since this whole Apocalypse thang – c'n you believe they're engaged an' they picked the same college to go to? Disgustin' raght? Anyway, the rest of us, guess we're all pretty much the same... Why, what do you need t' know that for?"

Remy smiled at her and said, "_Chere_, Remy tink y' may 've misunderstood him... He came back t' see how de Rogue was doin'."

The look on her face went from surprise to suspicion to indifference as fast as one of his sleight of hand tricks – in fact, he wasn't even completely sure it was anything but indifference all along.

"Ah'm _fahne_, what's it t' you?" she asked, a little defiance sneaking into her tone. He made another obscure hand gesture in her general direction.

"Remy was wit de Acolytes fer money an' maybe outta interest – he took y' to New Orl'ns t' settle personal business, an' he ain' had nothin' ta do wit de rest o' y' Bayville mutants 'cept de Rogue... Y' stay wit an'_ homme, ma chere..._"

She made a sound of disbelief that really did sting and said, "So what do you wanna know about me? Y' already know pretty much everythang." He shook his head.

"Non, chere. Remy wants t' know what y' been doin' since y' saved de world..."

She chewed on her bottom lip for a minute or so and then said, "Ah've been gettin' t' know mah brother an' tryin' t' have a normal life. It's not easy when everybody knows who y'are because they've seen you on TV y' know... An Ah've been takin' lessons with the Professor t' learn how t' deal with all the other people in mah head," she grinned as though it were the least bit amusing to have to deal with other psyches struggling for control over your life and he smiled.

She was by far one of the strongest people he'd ever met, even though she seemed a lot less angry than she had been when he'd last had anything to do with her she had retained all of her spirit. "Sounds good, _chere_... Y' sound like y've had a better time since last I was lucky enough t' clap eyes on y'." She shrugged.

"Tell me what you've been doin'."

He sighed. "'S a long story _chere_, an' it ain' one Remy care t' tell y' before bedtime..."

She looked at him with an odd sort of understanding in her deep green eyes. "Ah don' think anythang we've been through lately would make a good bedtime story," she said, neutral in everything but the slight tremble of her left hand as she pushed back a section of white hair from her eyes.

"If Remy tell y' tomorrow, would dat be good enough for y' _ma chere_?"

She nodded and stretched a little, and his eyes subtly followed the lines of her alabaster arms.

"Fahne by me Cajun – Ah'm too tired t' keep mah eyes open anyhow. Sleep taght," she said in a lilting singsong, reaching for the switch on her bedside lamp that was currently the only illumination the room offered.

"Only if y'll call Remy by his real name, chere," he teased, and she rolled her eyes and turned off the light. He could see her settling down, her head nestling against the pillows, arms tucking around herself even in the dark, his eyes not just for looks but providing him with superb night-vision as well. He mimicked her, eyes never leaving her face as she closed her own and said,

"G'naght, Remy..." He smiled slightly and buried his face in the pillows she'd given him, noting that they carried a hint of her scent on them and feeling somehow more relaxed of a sudden.

"Goodnight, _ma belle Rogue_..."

_**~*****************************************************************************************~**_


	3. A Rude Awakening

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing here and that's just the way it is.**_

_**~**************************************************************************************~**_

_**~Scarlet**__** Letter ~**_

_**A Rude Awakening.**_

He was woken rather rudely by the sensation of being lifted up by the neck and slammed into the wall. Naturally, this meant that the actual process of waking up was much faster than it otherwise would have been and required no other stimulus to fulfil itself. Even with it being clearly far too early in the morning and his windpipe being severely compromised, he managed to free himself effectively from the frankly terrifying monster seemingly bent on murdering him by smashing his elbow into his face. Falling to the floor he rolled away from the angry beast towards his neatly folded clothing and delved into a pocket for his cards. Three charged and ready to go, he surveyed the scene. It was at that point he realised that Rogue had been shrieking profanities and statements involving invasion of privacy and grievous consequences as a result thereof. He caught the name Logan before he properly registered that the person who had so unconventionally woken him and whom he was now fully prepared to battle was indeed the infamous Wolverine. And he looked to be rather upset.

"- Gawd, Logan, what the hell d' ya think you're doin'?! Ah swear y'all are gonna be sorry if ya don' stop this righ' now!"

Logan attempted to get a word in edgeways, but she'd risen and was now standing between the two men, eyes blazing and looking about ready to drain them both dry.

"Then you mind telling me what in Sam Hill that piece of – "

"_Logan_!"

"- is doing in your room?" the teacher snarled, and Remy winced.

He'd seen what Wolverine was capable of, just as he'd seen what the rather less human Sabertooth was capable of, and he had to say he was fed up with clawed things attacking him, even if he hadn't ever been bested by his former fellow Acolyte. That said, that particular clawed thing hadn't ever had personal reason to attack him. Wolverine looked precisely like a father come home to find his virginal daughter in bed with some unworthy scoundrel. Remy considered this.

Assuming that Rogue was indeed as pure as the snow her skin resembled and that he himself would have to own the title of Unworthy Scoundrel Of The Year, about the only thing wrong with the scenario was that he hadn't actually been in bed with her. Hell, he hadn't been in any bed at all. He'd been on the floor next to her bed. He realised the injustice quite suddenly.

"He slept here!"

"He what –"

"We met at mah concert an' Ah asked him t' come back here with me! What the hell is the problem, it's not like we were even in the same bed!"

"That's not the point –"

"That's totally the point!"

"What did you think you were doing inviting an ex-Acolyte to your room to sleep over anyway? I've taught you better than that!"

"Aw, c'mon! Lahke Magneto isn't over here almost every day t' have tea and crumpets with the Professor? Don't give me that –"

Helpless to do anything and rather wishing he was wearing his trousers, Remy stood there watching the increasingly heated verbal exchange and couldn't help but feel unfairly treated. There was no way he could have done anything to Rogue even had they both wanted to, nothing had happened _at all_, and this was what you got for being a gentleman?

_**~*****************************************************************************************~**_

_'Logan! Rogue! Stop this immediately!'_

Remy heard the voice of the Professor and thanked the Gods.

"Charles, she –"

"Professor, he –"

_'This has gone far enough! Both of you, stop. Logan, join me downstairs please. Rogue, Gambit, if you'd care to join us when you're dressed?'_

"But Charles –"

"Alright Professor," Rogue said quickly, with a pointed look at her misfit guardian angel, and the big man retracted his claws and moved towards the door.

"Fine. But this ain't over Bub-" he said with a pointed glare at Remy

" - and you'd better not be anywhere near her when she's –"

"_**Logan**_!" shrieked the irate teenage girl, and Remy was slightly amused to see even the great Wolverine get the hell outta Dodge.

"Argh!" she rounded on him. He decided it best to grovel shamelessly.

"_Chere, je suis tres, tres desolé_," he said sincerely,

"Dis is not y'r fault, Remy will take de blame," he added, hoping to God she'd calm down and that he wouldn't be forced to take a hasty swan dive out of the window.

"It's not your faul', Remy, it's mahne, Ah should've known Ah can't do anythang without them kickin' up a fuss over nothing!" she said, clearly still very angry, and he took a step towards her and brushed wayward strands of white out of her line of vision.

"_Chere, tu est tres magnifique_ when y're angry..." he teased, and she sighed and let go of the frown creasing her brow.

"Ah'm sorry y' had t' wake up lahke that," she said apologetically, and he shrugged and smiled.

"Remy been woken up a lot worse over de years, ma chere, don' worry. Go get dressed an' we'll go straighten out dis little misunderstanding, _hein_?"

She smiled and turned on her heel, disappearing into the bathroom and leaving him to pull on last night's trousers and his ever-trusty trench coat. The cards he had been holding in his hand while being 'woken' he procured seemingly out of thin air, nothing but playing cards once more, devoid of kinetic energy of any kind, and placed them with their deck in an inside pocket. This was going to be _tres interessante_...

_**~*****************************************************************************************~**_

The Professor was awaiting them with a longsuffering expression on his face. He'd heard Logan's seemingly endless rant on the subject of Gambit and Rogue's night together which hardly seemed an appropriate way to describe what had happened, and he was feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on. Logan was now slumped against the wall beside him having finally calmed down a little and was restricting himself to mutterings on the subject of how long they were taking to come downstairs. Charles ignored him. He had to wonder at the 'chance encounter' that had taken place at the concert. Rogue was obviously free to go where she pleased and see whom she wished, but this was a young man who had abducted her and used her for his own ends, whose profession was to deal in lies and deception, even theft. It did not sit well with him that Gambit came back to Bayville and the first person to meet him was Rogue. It seemed too orchestrated. Even if it wasn't intentional, why was he even back in the first place? What errand could he possibly have here? Perhaps he was there on some personal business and if so, Charles preferred to know as little as possible about it, but there was still the matter of him coming into contact with their Rogue. And her inviting him back home with her to spend the night in her room.

Charles was no fool, he knew full well what his teenage students got up to at times, but he also knew that for this particular student too much negative emotion was still tied up in the fact that she wasn't free to do any of the things the others could. He simply couldn't imagine that there was anything in Logan's fears for her honour. Not only was it a dubious assumption that she would choose Gambit should she bestow affections upon anyone in that manner, but it was ludicrous to think she might be able to impugn said honour at all with anyone. The fact remained that she couldn't touch anyone yet without absorbing them, and he knew that she didn't wish to try, either. In many ways, Rogue was still afraid of what she could do, and he doubted very much that that was something she was likely to get over anytime soon.

_**~*****************************************************************************************~**_

To say that they slunk in looking guilty and apologetic as most other students having been found out by Logan or any other teacher would have been a barefaced lie. Quite the contrary, Rogue strode in purposefully glaring daggers at Logan and stood in front of the Professor's desk with her arms crossed looking murderous, and Gambit walked in looking ridiculously at ease and closed the door politely behind him. He came to stand next to Rogue, and it did not escape Charles' attention that she allowed him to stand closer to her than she usually liked anyone to do. They were almost rubbing shoulders, or would have been had he not been rather taller than she. The Professor steepled his fingers in his customary fashion and addressed them in a reasonable, amiable tone.

"Good morning Rogue, Gambit –" a look of dissatisfaction crossed the young man's face briefly, and Charles stored this information. He apparently disliked being called by his professional name.

"- It's been brought to my attention that the two of you upon arriving here late last night after meeting at Rogue's concert decided to stay over in Rogue's room. Did you not have anywhere else to go?"

The question was directed at Gambit, who smiled pleasantly and said, "_Je suis desolé, Professeur Xavier_, Rogue kindly offered t' let Remy come back t' stay wit her –"

"Sorry, who?" Charles interrupted, and the young man smiled in a way that said he'd answered the same question about a thousand times before but was willing to make the effort to be polite just the same.

"He's talkin' about himself, Professor, it's an accent thang," Rogue interjected helpfully, and Gambit, whom Charles now knew was in actual fact called Remy – or called himself that at least – shot her a glowing look that had nothing to do with the red of his eyes. Logan seemed to notice it too because a low growl issued from the vicinity of his throat.

"_Oui, c'est vrai_," supplied the Cajun sounding not at all bothered by his predicament.

"Then I take it you wish to be called by your real name?"

"_Oui, sil vous plait_."

Charles nodded and smiled at them both. "Very well, in that case, did you not have anywhere else to go?"

"If Remy did, would it still be a crime t' take _une femme_ up on her gracious offer?"

_**~*****************************************************************************************~**_

The Professor had to admit, he was a clever lad this one.

"Of course not. We're merely trying to establish what made you do it seeing as how you and Rogue have a less than rosy history," he explained, and again, that flash of dissatisfaction crossed the young man's face before Rogue stepped in again.

"Ah wanted him t' come home with me, Professor. Ah wanted t' talk to him."

"Why was that?"

"Ah wanted t' know where he'd been all this tahme. An' – and it's not lahke he and I are enemies or anythang anymore, Ah mean there are no Acolytes or anythang now and even Magneto's seen the error of his ways!"

"I see. Well, you've both given the house something to talk about, that's for certain. And while I can see no real reason for any punishments to be given for what you've done, I'd still prefer it if this does not repeat itself. Gambit – sorry, Remy, if you'd be kind enough to leave the premises while Logan and I discuss a few things, I'd be grateful. Rogue will show you out."

The way the Professor said it made it very clear that he still wasn't certain that Remy should be allowed to get off scot-free. Although he smiled at the young pair, there was a furrow between his brows that said he was thinking over every possible reason for the two of them having met at all, and Rogue noticed that.

"Professor – none of us have done anythin' wrong," she said quietly, and Charles nodded.

"I know Rogue. Now if you'll show Remy out please, I'm going to have a word with Logan."

She set her lips in a straight line and made a noise of malcontent but put a hand on Remy's shoulder and led him out nonetheless. Once Charles and Logan were alone, the angry teacher was the first to speak.

"He's up to no good that one, you mark my words Charles, he's out to hurt her an' she'll never see it coming." Charles frowned and sighed, looking up at his old friend resignedly.

"Perhaps it wouldn't hurt for you to... keep an eye on him once he's gone? Just so we know where he's staying in case something does happen to Rogue." Logan nodded decisively.

"Yeah. Right."

_**~*****************************************************************************************~**_


	4. The Search For Allies

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, etc, etc, there you have it.**_

_**~****************************************************************************************~**_

_**~Scarlet Letter ~**_

_**The Search For Allies.**_

They were at the gates before she spoke again, and he felt a certain creeping sadness that she looked so angry and dismayed when she had seemed so much more centred only the night before.

"Ah'm so sorry..." she said, putting her arms around her middle in her customary 'barrier' position. "Ah should have known they'd go overboard lahke that... Ah didn't mean for you to have t' go through that, okay?"

He smiled reassuringly and put a hand on her shoulder. She didn't shy away.

"It's alrigh', _ma chere_... Remy understands, dey're like y' family, _non_? It's what real family does, looks out for y'. Don' blame y'self. Remy should've left while he could," he said soothingly, glad when she looked him in the eye again.

"Ah guess... Y' know they hate you? Ah know it's dumb an' all, but they do. They think y're lahke a total psycho cause y' kidnapped me back then an' all y' did that for was t' save that creep who adopted you..."

"Stole Remy, actually _chere_... But den, we're all thieves so it's not such an uncommon ting after all," he said with a carefree smile, and she twisted her lips into a smirk.

"Ah know y're a damn thief an' a crook but y' daddy ain' half as decent as y'are," she said with finality, and his smile sobered a little.

"Remy glad y' tink so, _chere_... real glad."

"Well y've been a real gentleman t' me, an' that's the important thang," she said, skating gracefully over his tender moment.

"Y' gonna be skippin' town now y' know y' got the whole X-troop on your ass?" He grinned cheekily.

"Now would dis Cajun be any kind o' thief if he didn' know how t' avoid gettin' caught?" he asked her mockingly, and she batted his hand away and crossed her arms.

"Y' got caught this mornin' didn' you?" He staggered as though she'd hit him and cried,

"Ah, _chere_, y're a harsh _femme_! Y' lulled ole Remy into a false sense o' security _chere_, it won' happen again!" She smiled at him and rolled her eyes.

"If it won' happen again y' won' mind comin' t' see me tonight, will you?" He blinked a little in surprise.

"Y' hopin' ole Wolverine'll come tear dis poor Cajun limb from limb _chere_?"

"Naw," she laughed, "Y're jus' fun t' have around – an' y' promised me that story, remember?" His faith restored, he smiled.

"So he did _chere_. An' y'll get it. Y' home t'night?"

"Twelve o'clock straight Ah will be," she said with a cocking of her hips that made him momentarily forget what they were discussing.

"Den le's see if Remy can' get t' your window by midnigh', non?" She smiled warily.

"If they catch y' Ah'm not sure the Professor can stop Logan disembowellin' you," she said with a matter-of-fact edge to her vice, and he took her hand and bowed low over it, kissing the fabric of her glove quickly.

"'Til tonigh', _chere_..." And he got on his bike and took off with a mechanical roar, leaving her to walk back down the long driveway to the home that wasn't a home.

_**~*****************************************************************************************~**_

The minute she was back in the mansion and the door was closed behind her Kitty descended.

"OhmyGod, like, what was all _that_ about? I totally heard you and Logan screaming at each other and Kurt totally thinks you're like, busted for getting back so late last night! What happened?"

The most unlikely person Rogue could have picked for a best friend was hanging onto her arm and jumping on the spot, face alive with the possibility of fresh gossip, ponytail swishing vigorously.

"I told him I'd ask what's going on!" Rogue rolled her eyes and tried to disengage Kitty's arm from around her own, not quite irritated but not up to her antics after the events of the morning.

"Can we lahke jus' go and get some tea before Ah die?" she mumbled, and Kitty froze, hazel eyes wide open with shock.

"What? What's wrong?" The usually ever-talkative Kitty Pryde just shook her head and gulped.

"There's, like, a – _card_ – stuck in your hair!"

"Oh, hell..." Rogue ran a hand over her hair and sure enough there was an Ace of Spades wedged behind a section of hair by her ear. Working fast, she covered Kitty's mouth, took her arm, and dragged her into the deserted morning room where she shut the door behind them and leant her squirming friend against it.

"Righ', y' cain' tell anyone about this, alrigh'? It's a secret, Ah don' wan' any of the others knowing about it, it's really importan' that y' don' tell!" Kitty nodded violently, eyes blinking a mile a minute, and Rogue sighed and said,

"Ah'm gonna let y' go now, 'kay? Then y' can ask me what's up..." She took her hand from the Valley girl's mouth and the verbal tidal wave washed over her with a vengeance.

"Like, _OhmyGod_, Rogue, what's going on here? Is that why – OhmyGod, it's not, like, anything to do with _Gambit_ is it? OhmyGod, he's not like, back, is he?!"

"Ah told you, this is a secret, okay? Y' gotta keep y'r mouth shut!"

"It's totally shut, totally!" Rogue sighed, Kitty bounced on the balls of her feet.

"Ah met him las' naght at mah concert, okay? We talked an' Ah invited him t' come stay with me – Ah wanted t' know where the hell he's _been_ all this tahme! That's _all_! An' then Logan came an' woke us up this mornin' by pretty much murderin' the guy, and the Professor made us come down an' talk t' him, and they made him leave... I was walkin' him t' the gates, that's why I was outside..."

Whatever Kitty had been expecting, this was clearly not it. She looked like she might pass out from excitement.

"He like, _slept_ in your room? _Gambit_ slept in your _room_? You sure he wasn't _stalking_ you and that's why he was there last night? I mean who knows what he was doing while you were asleep! The guy's like, seriously disturbed, Rogue, even the _Brotherhood_ guys are totally afraid of him – Lance told me this one time he took, like, all of them at the same time and he looked _bored_! And he refers to himself in the third person. That's just not right. What were you _thinking_?"

Rogue stepped back from her friend and shook her head.

"There's nothin' _wrong_ with him –"

"Well he is totally _hot_, but you gotta admit, he's not exactly, like, _sane_, Rogue," Kitty interrupted, as though she completely understood that Rogue might cut him some slack for the hotness but that even she could see that it didn't completely cancel out the apparent lack of sanity.

"He's not _insane_, Kitty, he's had a horrible lahfe, y' cain' even imagine how horrible, an' he never did anything t' me when we were in New Orl'ns, Ah _tol'_ you he was nice t' me the whole tahme!"

"He stalked you and kidnapped you to rescue some old guy he doesn't even like – is that sane sounding to you?" Kitty said with a wry grin, and Rogue said,

"Y'all hated me fer shovin' Mystique off a cliff – is that sane sounding t' you?" Kitty was immediately apologetic, putting an arm around Rogue and hugging her lightly,

"I'm sorry, okay? I get that he's had a bad life, I just want you to be careful..." she said quietly, and Rogue hugged her back.

"It's okay, really... Ah jus' hoped you'd try an' understan' me... Ah was inside his head, Kit, Ah know he's not some psycho kidnapper, he's just lahke us – tryin' t' find a way, y' know? Doesn' help he's been raised t' be the best damn thief the world's ever seen an' his ole dad never taught him any moral values... He went t' save him cause he didn' want blood spilt on his account, Kit. That's not what a bad person would do, is it? An' we were jus' talkin' las' naght... Ah wanted t' know why he never came _back_ or anythang..."

Kitty smiled, eyes brimming over with sympathetic understanding. "I get it Rogue, I totally do... You want him to have a second chance, right? Like I want Lance to have one, and Wanda and Pietro – no one's _all_ bad," she said wisely, and Rogue gave her a proper hug, totally impulsive and out of character.

Kitty's heart swelled with pride at the action of her usually distant friend and just took it as it came.

"Thanks fer bein' you, Kit... Ah knew y'd try..." she said, muffled in Kitty's shoulder, and the Valley girl sniffled and said,

"Okay, I'm, like, totally gonna cry if you don't let go of me now girl!"

Rogue wisely let go – Kitty was being serious. She was easily moved by displays of Disney-film-like affection. At least she gave fair warning though. Kitty's eyes were shiny enough all right, and she clasped her hands in front of her face as she said,

"You wanna come with me today then, get out of the house? I'm gonna go see Lance, Wanda'll be there too and you know she likes seeing you round there so you can help her talk to Pietro... It's like counselling or something!"

Rogue smiled. It was sort of like counselling the way they did it. Wanda had to be very careful with her thought patterns so she didn't slip into anger without thinking and damage something. Pietro was still freaked out enough by the my-sister-is-a-witch thing to react badly to it when she did slip up for it to have dire consequences, so they preferred to talk with a mediator when they could to avoid negative outcomes. Rogue was happy to do it and let them bounce things off her when they needed to. Besides, Wanda was one of her good friends, though she'd had to assure Kitty a few times that she of course had been the first and best so as to not upset the Valley girl's fierce sense of loyalty. She noticed that Kitty was still in her pyjamas, a cutesy affair with little smiling clouds and frogs on them, and laughed,

"Sure, Ah need t' get away from here fer a while... Wanna go pick out something t' wear fer Lance or are y' goin' lahke that?"

Kitty giggled girlishly and said, "I got something to wear yesterday – come up and help me get ready? I kinda miss having you around for that..."

"Definitely... Ah miss you too sometimes, Kit... Oh – jus' promise me y' won' mention Gambit t' anyone – not even Kurt!"

Kitty nodded solemnly and made a cross over her heart.

"I swear I won't tell anyone. So – did you see him without his shirt?" Rogue put an arm around her friend and they went off to get dolled up, talking nineteen to the dozen about whether or not it was right to wear blue shoes with a pink top and the virtues of tight black T-shirts on well-trained guys.

_**~*****************************************************************************************~**_

Upon arrival at the Brotherhood house, the first thing that caught the eye was Toad, borne on a stream of crackling blue light, soaring out through the front door. He landed a few feet away from them, rubbing his head and groaning.

"Uuuurgh... Hey girls... If you're looking for Wanda, she's inside..." he managed, then got to his feet and hopped away unsteadily. Kitty raised an eyebrow at Rogue, who just shrugged back, and they entered the house with some trepidation.

"Wanda? Pietro? Lance?" Kitty called, and Fred came into view on his way to the kitchen.

"Kitty! Rogue! Hey! You here to see Wanda? Think she's in the living room – she's talking to her brother," he said, all good nature and smiles, and Rogue shot one back at him gratefully.

"Thanks Freddy. She in a bad mood or somethang? We saw Toad outside..."

He shook his head, a deep chuckle rumbling through him. "Nah, he just got too close again, buggin' her... She's okay today."

Kitty giggled, "Great, you know where Lance is?" Fred shook his head.

"Try the garage," he said, disappearing into the kitchen to load up on lunch. Kitty waved at Rogue and phased through the wall in that general direction, and Rogue went in search of the happy siblings.

_**~*****************************************************************************************~**_


	5. Counseling For Beginners

_**DISCLAIMER: None of this is mine. As well you know.**_

**_~*******************************************************************************************~_**

_**~Scarlet Letter ~**_

_**Counseling For Beginners.**_

" – told you Pietro, I don't want to see him. I'm good where I am."

Pietro was standing as he usually was, arms folded across his chest and attention focused on his sister as she lounged on their couch with her boots propped up on the coffee table, looking stubborn.

"Well y' look good gal," Rogue said with a wink, pushing past Pietro and perching on the armrest of the matching red velvet armchair that completed the three-piece suite. She knew Wanda had picked it out – she'd pretty much had free rein to decorate since they stopped the end of humanity as they knew it because the boys didn't really care and Toad was always willing to help make her wishes become reality.

"Rogue, what are you doing here?" cried Wanda, reaching out to envelop her friend in a one-armed hug, and Rogue smiled at her and returned the gesture.

"Felt lahke comin' t' see mah favourite witch – saw what y' did t' Toad by the way," she added, and Wanda rolled her eyes. Pietro, however, got his comment in first.

"He deserved it – he's always sniffing round her, he won't leave her alone no matter how many times I've told him he just ain't good enough for her!"

"Leave it alone, Pietro," Wanda sighed, "you know I hate that whole over-protective thing you do. Toad's just gross, it's not his fault." Rogue grimaced.

"No, but he sure as hell doesn' make it easy for a girl t' let him down gently, huh sugah?" Wanda laughed and rested her elbows on her knees.

"Hey, brother mine, go make us coffee, will you? Make it quick," she joked, and her brother zoomed across to her, pecked her on the cheek, and was gone as quickly as he'd done it.

"Urgh! I've told him about the PDA's!" she said disgustedly, wiping her cheek with her sleeve. Her hair had grown out slightly, framing her face more, and although she'd kept the red parts, it made her look softer. She was as pale as ever, her eyes thickly lined in black and shaded deep scarlet at the outer edges, and she was wearing glossy black jeans and a soft green hoodie she'd borrowed from Rogue. They'd had to acknowledge that all the time she'd spent helping save the world and trying to destroy her father had left her with pretty much nothing to wear. She'd only been shopping once since she left the asylum she'd been in most of her young life, and that hadn't counted since she hadn't paid for anything and she and the Brotherhood had destroyed the mall afterwards to spite the X-men.

Rogue laughed at her friend and crossed her legs, leaning on her knees.

"Y' know he's jus' tryin' t' show you he's there for y' now," she said calmly, and Wanda smiled and looked down at her heavily buckled boots.

"I know... It just gets really overwhelming sometimes. You never had that with Kurt?"

"I didn' spend so much time tryin' to kill Kurt fer sidin' with mah Dad so we were pretty good friends before we found out we were kinda related, an' he knows Ah'm a really private person. Ah don' do all that touchy-feely crap..." her voice trailed off and Wanda nodded and put a hand on hers.

"I understand. It's okay."

Rogue could have kissed her herself for the way she truly did understand.

"Ah think y' should jus' let him do it and once y'all 'ave been together a while, there'll be lines y' don' cross naturally. Y' jus' need more tahme, sugah. Don' stress it."

Suddenly Pietro was at their side, tray laden with coffee and mugs balancing precariously on top of the biscuit tin which he managed to set on the table without spilling anything. Rogue had been surprised to find out that Wanda actually hated mess. Not so much untidiness as actual mess of the spillage and dust-bunny variety. It did nothing for her chaotic state of mind and made her feel trapped for some reason. Rogue was okay with that – it had meant that the Brotherhood house was now almost always spotless due to a combined effort on the guys' part. Mostly through the understanding that the less unclean the house was, the calmer and happier Wanda was, and the less tantrums that resulted in trips to the emergency room. For them.

"Thanks bro," said the Scarlet Witch with a big smile in the direction of her brother who went pink and mumbled,

"Sure sis, anytime..." He busied himself with pouring out the coffee for them, and Rogue felt compelled to ask,

"Did you guys ever talk about how surprised Pietro was that you turned out t' be hotter 'n' a deep South summer?" Pietro actually managed to drop the coffeepot, and it was rescued only by Wanda's calm interference in the form of the halo of sparkling blue that enveloped it and allowed it to hover in mid-air until he took it again.

"I was not surprised – she's my sister! Course she's hot, it runs in the family!" he said with great indignation and a fiercely red face that didn't go well with his hair. Wanda just laughed subtly and said,

"Modesty too, huh Rogue?" and the Southern girl cracked up for real, unable to control the giggles anymore.

"Ha ha, very funny, but you just remember that when you two go out next time – it _is_ you they're staring at! Not the makeup, not the boots or your clothes, you!" he said with force, and Wanda waved it away, accepting her coffee mug from him and taking a tiny sip, breathing in the steam rising from the creamy surface.

"You don't know what you're talking about Pietro," she said coolly, and Rogue smirked.

"Ah think that's an understatement sugah!" The girls dissolved into laughter again, and Pietro settled himself in the other armchair opposite Rogue, looking at her pointedly.

"Maybe, but I'm still a guy, and one thing I know is that most of the time we see the girl in the clothes before the clothes, and that's what decides whether or not any drooling takes place. By the way – you come from the same place as that Gambit guy? You sound pretty alike," he said with a raising of his eyebrows.

Rogue narrowed her eyes at him. He couldn't know. No one had told. It wasn't possible – most of the Brotherhood had no ties with the X-men at all, it was mostly her, Tabby, and Kitty that saw them on an even slightly regular basis.

"Ah'm insulted. Not everyone with a Southern accent used t' be neighbours Pietro, an' have you ever heard me speak French in the middle of a sentence?"

He shrugged at her and said, "Guess not. Just asking."

"Well no, he's a Swamp Rat from New Orl'ns an' Ah'm from the Mississippi area. Nowhere near each other."

He held up both hands at her defensive tone, and smiled disarmingly. "Alright, I get it, nothing to do with him, sorry," he said quickly, and Wanda reached over and slapped his arm. Not hard, Rogue noted with a secret smile of approval.

"Told you not to talk about him in front of her – the guy kidnapped her and tricked her to get what he wanted, that's not really the kinda guy you want to be discussing over coffee with your friends _now is it_?" she grated with a look at him that promised retribution. Rogue put a hand on her shoulder and said,

"It's okay, Ah'm over that. He's not a bad person, he's just been through a lot, just lahke the rest of us," she said evenly, and Wanda gave her hand a little squeeze.

"Long as you're sure honey. What happened to him anyway? He hung out here for a while and then he just disappeared? Did he stay in New Orleans?" Pietro gave an I-don't-know-and-I-don't-care look over the rim of his mug, and Wanda sighed.

"What's the use of having a guy on the inside if you can't give me any gossip? I need to know these things!"

"I could tell you sweetums," came a voice from behind the couch.

"What the –" Toad hopped out from his hiding place and Wanda was about to hex him to kingdom come when Rogue stopped her by flinging her hand out in front of the beam of sparking sapphire hell before it reached the trembling green menace.

"What would you know about it, you little eavesdropper?" Wanda spat instead, clearly upset that her plan to hex him had been thwarted.

"Thanks, Rogue," Todd said to the Southerner in an undertone before practically prostrating himself on the rug in front of the table before Wanda and saying,

"I wasn't dropping no eaves, I swear! I just heard you mention that card-carrying guy and I know where he is – I thought you wanted to know!" Wanda sighed and crossed her arms under her chest.

"We do. Out with it then," she said in a longsuffering tone, and Todd stood up as though standing to attention and began to relay the details in a voice that told Rogue he had been trained the hard way to deliver short, concise low-downs of events before his ass got hexed again. Poor thing.

"He's back in town – seen him a couple times over the last few weeks, maybe three. He just hangs around mostly, it's kinda freaky, he's always alone," Todd delivered, his attention to details perhaps not his strongest suit but the information still intriguing.

"Ain' never seen them other two guys with him an' he doesn't take his shades off much if he can help it. Don't know where he's staying though."

Rogue digested this. Had he been hanging about waiting to make his move? Was it all some elaborate scheme to get closer to her and the others? If so, why bother? Wanda just nodded and said,

"Okay, great. Now we know. Leave," and transferred her attention to Pietro, leaving Todd to scratch his left leg with his right heel making him look like an ugly dejected stork before he slumped off out of the room.

"Sis, he can't help being totally into you. Try and cut the guy some slack, huh? I'm not saying date him, I'm just saying he's not a criminal or anything..." Wanda just waved her hand at her brother's attempts at reconciling her to the idea of Toad being a human being with feelings, and sighed.

"Yeah, yeah, but that's not important right now – Gambit's back in town! Either he got used to the place or he's up to something, what do you think Rogue?" The Southern gal shrugged and twirled a section of hair between her fingers.

"Ah dunno.... He's not _mah_ responsibility..." and although Pietro gave his sister a meaningful look over the rim of his coffee-mug, he said nothing. Perhaps wisely. Wanda, however, noticed only the odd twitch of Rogue's fingers at the mention of Gambit's business in Bayville and made a mental note to ask her more later. Even if it was just the latent issues from being kidnapped and that she harboured feelings of trepidation about a possible repeat performance, Wanda wanted to know. They'd done so much to help her, she wanted to be the best friend she could to them.

"Hey you know, we should go shopping or something, just the two of us – and Kitty, if she and Lance aren't sucking face somewhere –"

"Unlikely," snorted Rogue good-humouredly.

"True," Wanda nodded, and Pietro made a gesture of melodramatic defeat.

"Well I guess if you're leaving me that's fine, I'll just waste away here then..." Wanda laughed at him and got up, draining her coffee in one long draught.

"Thanks for that," she said to her brother, who flashed her an affectionate smile.

"Anytime. Have fun you two – try not to scare any of the nice citizens!" Rogue shook her head a little sadly.

"We can't promise anythang..."

_**~*****************************************************************************************~**_


	6. Mall Brawl

_**DISCLAIMER: Of course I don't own any of the characters here. If I did, it'd be easier to pay my bills, and I'd spend all day playing with them and dressing them up and making them kiss their designated partners.**_

_**~ Scarlet Letter ~**_

_**Mall Brawl...**_

Turned out it was a busy day at the mall and half the world had simultaneously decided to go and blow their paycheques on random consumables so the two girls were fairly inconspicuous in the crowds. As inconspicuous as two attractive Gothically inclined teenage girls could be, at least. Wanda had doffed her hoodie for the occasion and was wearing a deep red bodice under her equally red trench coat, and Rogue shot her an admiring glance out of the corner of her heavily lined eye. Wanda really was a stunning young woman, for all she was completely uninterested in anything to do with the opposite sex and was more confused and frightened than actually repulsed by Toad's blatant advances. There was repulsion there too, but mostly it was his disregard for her personal space and the way he spoke to her. She didn't like the cute nicknames and the constant interruptions whenever she did something – the way he was attempting to woo her was just totally wrong for the way she was as a person and anyone who wasn't Toad could see it in the dark wearing a blindfold. Alas, Toad was Toad. And he couldn't see much beyond Wanda and the acquiring thereof, and flies, and the eating thereof.

Rogue knew Wanda sympathised slightly with the fact that Toad couldn't actually use soap products due to his amphibious traits and the allergies that followed them, but she still couldn't stand the smell of him, and if someone that smelly ambushed Rogue every morning at the breakfast table she thought she'd likely get a little pissy too. What Wanda needed was someone who could warm her up to the idea of people not being worthless scum. And someone who'd make her laugh. Pondering this, she stopped her friend and motioned that they enter the bookshop to the right of them.

Wanda smiled and nodded and they went in together, and Rogue was again thankful that Wanda didn't see together time as an excuse to chatter endlessly, like Kitty did. She preferred silence to chit-chat and spoke when necessary. She also didn't blather on about Lance Alvers and had good taste in music. Browsing the shelves of the shop – a favourite haunt of theirs since it carried the more obscure authors and some of the racier titles – Rogue noticed that Wanda's fingers stopped their trailing at a certain book which she pulled out and studied with an expression that seemed to say she'd forgotten something. Her mouth moved as she read the blurb and then she turned to face Rogue with a sort of disbelief in her eyes.

"St. John Allerdyce – didn't he used to be an – ?"

"He was an Acolyte sugah, went by the name o' Pyro... Why?"

"He – he wrote this book..." She handed it to her friend who studied the inside credits.

"Damn... Looks like he did... So, what? You wanna read it? See if it's as messed up as he is?" Wanda laughed at that.

"Come on Rogue, your Bobby's just as obsessed with ice as Pyro is with fire, it's probably just a thing they have because they can control something like that – he's just unlucky that his obsession has a clinical name." Wanda's eyes were crinkled with smiles but at the heart of them Rogue saw the silent plea her friend was actually making. 'Don't call him insane when it's not his fault.' She nodded.

"Alright sugah, fair enough – I'll buy it for ya an' you can tell me if it's any good! You know you love all that historic paranormal romance shit an' you've got me hooked too so let's check it out!" Wanda put an arm around the Southerner and squoze quickly before releasing her.

"Sure! Go find something you want and I'll return the favour!" And Rogue was pushed to the next row of shelves, shaking her head over the impulsive girl. Wanda was really a great person. You just had to peel away a few layers first.

~******************************************************************~

" – Remy tink dey're talkin' about y'," he said to his companion who was hanging over the railing watching the people below him in a detached manner.

"Hmmm? Me? Why'd they be talkin' about me?"

"Dey're in a bookshop, mon ami," the Cajun said nonchalantly.

"Huh. Nothin' ta do wi' me, mate," the disgruntled Aussie maintained, keeping a firm eye on the milling crowds on the lower levels.

"Perhaps not. _Mais oui_, de _petite friponne_ be talkin' bout y'... Sometin' bout a book..." His friend snorted.

"Keep it t' yerself mate, I don' care what they're on abou', we're jus' here t' stalk that Rogue gel an' I told you it ain' none o' my beeswax." Remy smiled to himself as his eyes followed the two young ladies on their way through the less interesting people. As unaffected as his pyromaniac accomplice sounded, Remy could tell he was intrigued. He had put his lighter away, for one, and he was sounding purposefully grumpy as opposed to just bored and restless as he had been before.

"Y' mean t' tell Remy y' don' like dat Wanda _femme_? Don' lie t' me, _mon ami_, she's _tres belle_ an' I know y' tink so too..." St. John Allerdyce sighed dramatically and flexed his shoulders back.

"So? Jus' because some sheila's a looker I have t' be as obsessed as you are with that Rogue? I know y' think you an' 'er are destined t' be together or somethin' but give the rest of us a break will ya?"

"So y' tell me, homme – if she decided she hated y' an' y' didn' have a snowball's chance in hell – would y' still be playin' de 'I don' care' card?" Remy smirked at his friend who made an exasperated noise and said,

"What is it with you an' cards? It's always the cards! Give i' a bloody rest, mate! Oh look, they're getting away..." his voice trailed off in a less-than focused kind of way when he mentioned them, his blue eyes fixing on a point somewhere beyond and to the right of Remy's head.

"Non, we're going wit' dem," the Cajun pointed out, grabbing his spaced-out comrade by the shirtsleeve and setting off at a brisk pace.

"Oi! Let go you tosser, I can walk y' know!"

"Pysh – y're too slow –"

"You know it's a federal offence to stalk someone like this, right? What do you think she'd say if she knew? Poor little sheila – invites y' back t' the inner sanctum of her room, think's y've turned over a new leaf, an' lo an' behold y're still the same nutjob y've always been... She'll be so disappointed. I know I would be. She'll need therapy after this mate –" Remy stopped suddenly, rounding on him, and St. John stepped smartly to one side to avoid being tripped up.

"Remy never told de petite belle he turned over anytin' an' y're not gonna tell anyone either, got dat?"

"Whatever," the Aussie rolled his eyes and then focused again on a point somewhere beyond Remy. "Who are they?"

"Huh?"

~*******************************************************************~

"You were on TV, weren't you? You're one of those mutants!"

"Look, my friend's not giving any autographs so back off, okay?" Wanda said calmly, stepping in front of Rogue. There was a group of football-jacket wearing idiots facing up to them, fronted by a blonde with a squarish head and a dull-eyed expression.

"Your friend, or your _girlfriend_? You know what she is? She's a freak!" Wanda weighed her options. It would take a second for her to bring the whole place down around their knees if she wanted to – or if she lost control – and Rogue didn't need the hassle of this fuck-up in her head. She opted for trying to diffuse the situation.

"We're not freaks, we're just humans like you with different abilities. We're not here to hurt anyone, so let us go and everything will be fine," she said, trying to sound reasonable. All right, maybe there was a little threat in there. The thuggish lad who'd stopped them on their way shoved his face into Wanda's and said,

"You protecting your _girlfriend_, you mutie bitch?" Rogue noticed the slight tremor that ran down Wanda's back.

"If I am, you can be sure that I can do a lot better for her than you could ever do for anyone you spineless piece of shit now back the hell off," she said in a controlled voice, and Rogue put a hand on her shoulder.

"Wanda – sugah, let's go..." she said quietly, and the other girl shook her head.

"No."

"Listen to your _girlfriend_ sweetheart, you don't stand a chance against all of us and we don't want you freaks in our town!" There was a murmur of assent amongst his cronies, and Wanda took a deep, calming breath. And hexed the offending jock into the fountain without blinking an eye.

"Wanda! Oh mah Gawd!" There was a split second where it was clear that his friends were thinking their own options through, and Rogue gripped Wanda's blue-wreathed arm so tightly she was sure she was cutting off proper circulation.

"Wanda, honey, calm down, they're not a threat to you, we're leavin' c'mon –" And the hapless fuckwads she'd been trying to protect from the wrath of her best friend decided to charge them while they were momentarily distracted.

"Why – can't – you – people – just – leave – us – alone!" Wanda screamed, raising both arms in the air and bringing the jocks to a precarious two-metres-over-the-floor position where they hung at her mercy suspended in crackles of blue fury, wailing and yelling their dismay.

"I am so sick of being victimised by you pathetic worms! This girl saved your asses – every one of you – and you should be bowing down to her but instead you think it's fair to go seven against two on her in the middle of a public place where _mothers_ come with their _children_! How do you defend that? You can't even defend _yourselves_! Look at you! I could kill you now and no one could stop me! It would be _justified_ – the world doesn't need ignorant shitheads like you deciding who gets to walk unmolested through the streets - I'd be doing everyone a favour!" Rogue still had a death-grip on Wanda's arm, and she was biting almost clean through her lip in fear. If the witch lost it for even a second she could very well kill them and when she was in this sort of state Rogue wasn't sure she'd be able to bring her out of it if that happened.

"Wanda, please –"

"Young lady, I'm gonna have to ask you to release those boys immediately!" Rogue looked around to see one of the mall's security guards standing to the left of them with his weapon trained on Wanda, and she groaned. Great. Just fantastic.

"They were harassing myself and my friend here, sir, and I don't think that's entirely fair, do you?" Wanda asked sweetly, turning her head to look at him with a blinding smile, and the guard jerked as though expecting her to be some kind of demon instead of a lovely young woman.

"I – no miss but I have to insist that you let them down and I promise they'll be prosecuted within the reaches of the law. Just let 'em down and I'll take care of it..." Wanda pouted.

"If you're lying I'll be very angry," she said in a singsong tone, and Rogue had to wonder whether she'd lost it already.

"I assure you miss, no one wants to see justice done any less than you do. Let 'em down and we'll talk..."

"Okay." Wanda's expression turned cold and indifferent at the same time as she swept her hands downwards and brought the jocks crashing into the floor. Rogue could tell she'd dragged them into it instead of just letting them fall.

"Alright now miss, could you hold them down while I call for some assistance?"

"I'd love to." Wanda froze them with a careless gesture and the guard began to speak into his walkie-talkie while Rogue regained the power of speech.

"Oh mah _Gawd_ Wanda – y' could've _killed_ them – y' could've been _shot_ – why did you _do_ that?!" Wanda looked at her as though she was babbling and said,

"Because you're better than them and they needed to be taught that."

"Oh hell, sugah..." Rogue buried the Scarlet Witch in a hug. "Hell..."

~******************************************************************~

"She be as crazy as you, _mon ami_," chuckled the Cajun to St. John who stood next to him, surveying the scene. Wanda was levitating the jocks in a haphazard pile towards the guard's interviewing room, taking little care as to whether or not the avoided corners and sharp edges, and the Australian laughed quietly, which was out of character even on a bad day.

"Sheila's not crazy, mate – she's loyal. She did it for your sweetheart down there. Y' should thank her sometime." Remy smirked.

"Maybe Remy will..."

"Like hell," the disturbingly calm St. John shot back, walking away, and Remy raised an eyebrow at his retreating back.

"Why y' bein' all _nonchalant_ about dis, _mon ami_? Y' actin like y' usually do after we've let y' burn down sometin' big." St. John laughed, loudly and not a little maniacally this time. Better, the Cajun decided. He didn't know what to do with a subdued Pyro.

"Well maybe there's more 'n one way t' get that effect," he managed between bursts of laughter. Remy nodded warily and caught up to his friend, unsure if he had finally crossed the line between being semi-unstable and at times a little creepy to fully certifiable. Best not to dwell on it, he told himself as the pyromaniac procured a lighter from nothing and proceeded to play with it. Yes, definitely best not to dwell.


	7. The Consequences Of Your Actions

_**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any characters, Marvel does, and unfortunately I do not own Judas Priest or the song Angel either. If I did, I'd be living it up with Rob Halford somewhere nice resting on royalty-laurels. You better believe it.**_

**_(A quick thank you to the fantastic Laceylou76 who made me want to keep posting this, you're a stand-up dame and if I owned any of this I'd send you flowers. Instead, I send you virtual flowers and my sincerest regards. This update is dedicated to you for being a lovely person.)_**

_**~Scarlet Letter ~**_

_**The Consequences Of Your Actions.**_

While a certain Cajun was lurking somewhere in the mall, not dwelling on the mental state of a certain Australian, Wanda and Rogue were being questioned by the guard who seemed to have reached the decision that nothing the young ladies had done had been in any way wrong, which suited them well. In fact, he would personally arrange it so that they would receive mall gift certificates to the sum of 100$ each and that the offending jocks would be banned from the premises for a month. This meant that if they were seen by any guards at the mall they would be removed – forcibly if necessary. This pleased Wanda, and made Rogue a little suspicious, but all the guard would say was, "They never told us how those pyramid things were stopped but I'm pretty sure the government didn't have much to do with it. You're free to go, ladies."

~***************************************************************~

"There they are mate, if y' feel like tailin' 'em fer the rest of the day go right ahead..." John murmured from his perch on the bench where he was surreptitiously cupping a tiny handful of flames.

"Dey look pleased wit demselves," Remy observed, and John shrugged.

"Maybe the guard's a mutant an' he let Wanda have 'er way with those assholes," he suggested, and Remy gave him a sour look.

"Y' kiddin', righ'?"

"She wanted them dead mate, there's no two ways abou' that."

"Y' say it like she'd enjoy it," Remy accused, and John gave him an odd look.

"She would."

~***************************************************************~

Wanda linked arms with Rouge as they continued on their way through the shining halls of modern consumerism, but Rogue couldn't help noticing the stares they were getting and the people who went far out of their way to avoid them. "Wanda... let's go home, huh?"

"Rogue, we didn't do anything wrong and I'm all out of eyeliner. One more stop, then we leave. Pretend they're just staring at your boots." Rogue was a little shaken by the calm in Wanda's voice and the aloof look on her face as she practically steered them into their make-up store of choice. She looked down at her combat boots and smiled a little. Pretend... she could do that.

"Erm.... excuse me?" A youngish blonde woman leading a pale little girl with coal-black bangs by the hand addressed them, and Wanda looked the over. Mother and daughter, most likely. She quelled the familiar pang of envy and said,

"Yes? Can we help you?" The blonde woman smiled nervously and leant in towards them, not noticing that her daughter pulled away from her so as not to be crushed between them.

"I just wanted to say I think you were great down there, teaching those hooligans a lesson. You go girl!" Wanda just stared at her, completely nonplussed.

"I... thank you..." she managed, and the little girl smiled at her.

"I wanna be a mutant too!" she said, beaming, and her mother looked at her proudly.

"We just wanted you to know that not everyone is anti-mutant. Some of us are raising our children right," she said seriously, and the two Goths nodded and smiled and they parted ways with the mother and her child and then sort of stood there in the middle of things, not knowing what to make of what had just happened.

"Well... that was weird... Nice, but weird..." Wanda said quietly, and Rogue nodded.

"Yeah... At least they were nice, right? Could have been a lot worse..." Wanda said nothing, just moved away to browse through the rows and rows of eyeliner before finding the one she wanted and getting two.

"What do you need two for?" Rogue asked when they'd paid in relative silence, and Wanda looked away.

"I don't want to have to come here again for a long time," she mumbled. Rogue caught her arm with hers and pulled out her phone.

"Ah'm callin' Pietro," she said with a certain finality. "He needs to know we're alraght in case any of this shit got leaked." Wanda didn't reply. In fact, she said not another word all the way home, and when they got home and her brother fell about her neck with warnings and words of concern, she just pushed him away and went to her room, not even bidding her friend goodbye.

"What the hell happened Rogue? I know you told me but why's Wanda all... weird?" Pietro asked her, sounding as though he expected her to say that in addition to the incident at the mall, Wanda had just been diagnosed with cancer.

"Ah thank she's just really tired after all that – the people lookin' an' everythang... Think it was a bit much fer her... Jus' give her some space, she'll be fahne. She'll watch a movie, read her new book or somethin' an' it'll go away..." Pietro nodded at her, still looking worried as hell, and she put a hand on his arm to reassure him somewhat.

"She was so controlled back there," she said quietly. "You'd have been proud."

"I'm always proud," he replied, his eyes telling the full truth of it.

"Kitty gone home yet?" Rogue asked in an attempt to loosen up the situation, and Pietro nodded and pointed out back.

"Out there with Lance, waiting to drive you guys home. She'll wanna know everything. See ya – " and he was gone.

~***************************************************************~

Wanda was lying on her bed, about a hundred candles burning around her, the electric lights turned off so that the open book in front of her on the scarlet coverlet was illuminated only by their flickering light. The soft sound of Judas Priest's _Angel_ flowed into her ears, calming her, and she tried to breathe the way Agatha had taught her to regain control over her emotions. She exhaled deeply, then breathed in until she felt her lungs would burst, holding it until she could take another, tiny breath, and then counted to five before exhaling until she felt completely drained of breath, then repeating.

After a few repetitions, she began to feel less agitated and she could allow herself to begin to analyse the incident at the mall. She didn't know why she'd reacted the way she had, why she had tried to control herself. The part of her she privately called the Witch had wanted to lose it. To rage against the injustice, to really hurt someone. Wanda still felt the residual violent desire inside her to harm, to maim and kill and defend herself, but she knew the situation hadn't called for a reaction like that. She'd handled it well – the rational Wanda knew she'd done well and that it could have ended really badly, but that other voice in her head that had been her only companion all those long years in the asylum was telling her it could have ended so much more gloriously. That it could have been so much more painful – could have been more gratifying.

To walk away from the battlefield bloodied but alive was better than to get up from the negotiating table and feel unsatisfied. 'I know we'll find a better place and peace of mind, just tell me that it's all you want for you and me... Angel won't you set me free?' Humming quietly, she turned her attention to the open book and allowed the fictional world he'd penned to envelop her, the warmth of the land he was describing through his words so real she could feel it.

When her brother came to see if she'd like a little late dinner, he found his sister asleep, arms spread out like wings over the book that lay open at the final pages, text slightly smeared by droplets of moisture. He laid the coverlet across her legs and let the candles burn, humming the last passage of the song, watching her before he closed the door to let her rest.


	8. Fairytales?

_**DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of this and I should think that was obvious.**_

**_(I didn't really intend to update so soon but I promised Laceylou76 I'd work in a little Romy and a lot of Remy and here's the first installment of that since the last chapter was a little lacking. And yes, she gets another chapter because she reviewed and is therefore fantastic. Deal with it.)_**

_**~**********************************************************************************~**_

_**~Scarlet Letter ~**_

_**Fairytales?**_

She'd brushed out her hair, told Kurt she wanted to be alone for the evening when he'd offered to watch From Hell with her, and she was just lying on her bed answering a text from Pietro on the progress of Wanda's evening when she happened to glance up at the French windows leading to the balcony where she'd had a perfect view of the full moon for the last two hours. This was now obscured by the silhouette of someone sitting cross-legged on the stone railing that was meant to keep balcony-goers from toppling over the edge onto the lawn two floors underneath it. She emitted a muted shriek of terror before falling off her bed in a terribly undignified manner and then jumping up again, ready to fight, run, or scream for Logan as the situation called for. Gambit swung his legs over the railing and looked at her with a smirk, red eyes boring into her.

"Jesus _Christ_, Remy, y' bout gave me a heart attack!" she hissed, leaping for the catch to the windows and letting him in, shoving him behind her, and he stifled a chuckle and instead moderated his tone to the very embodiment of heartfelt apology.

"Remy so sorry, _chere_, y' forgot he promise t' come see y' tonight?" Rogue gave him a half-hearted glare and pushed him into a sitting position on the edge of her bed while she pulled up her desk chair.

"Ah didn' ferget, Ah didn' count on you makin' it past all the lasers," she said huffily, and he did chuckle this time.

"_Chere_, y' talkin' about lasers t' a man dat broke into de Pentagon an' made it out undetected," he said wryly, and she had to smile.

"Ah guess... Y' owe me a bedtime story, Cajun." He made a face.

"Remy guesses he can' jus' flirt his way outta dat one, _hein_?"

"Ya damn raght." Her face was set and he groaned and ran a hand through his hair.

"Why'd ya let it grow lahke that?" she asked suddenly, and he grinned at her through his gloved fingers.

"Y' change y' mind about y' story, _ma belle_ _chere_? Wanna talk abou' how easy it is t' forget t' go for a haircut instead?" he teased, and she rolled her eyes.

"Just curious. Tell me the story." He took a deep breath and then seemed to regain a little of his swagger.

"De kiddie-friendly version?" She stared him down.

"Talk or I'm calling Logan. And we know how that will end." He shuddered at the thought and held up both hands to appease her and hopefully prevent anymore threats. He took a deep breath and started his narrative.

"Well den ma chere, once upon a time dere was a knight in a stunnin' trench coat. He was employed by a piece o' shit who believed in mutant supremacy. All dis knight believed in was money an' doin' tings his own way. De illegal way, usually. Anyhow, dis fucker who'd employed him decided ta go head t' head wit a mutant who already had himself pegged for Supreme Mutant an' suddenly dis knight ain' got no job an' ain' invited to de face-off wit de psychotic zombie ben' on destroyin' mankind an' replacin' it wit mutant-kind. So de knight sets out t' do de only ting dat makes sense." She raised an eyebrow.

"Drink?" Remy laughed a little before putting his serious-face back on and saying,

"Non, ma chere. He set out t' make sure dat when de heroes were done destroyin' de zombie mutant from hell, dere wouldn' be any loopholes f'r him t' jump righ' back out of." Rogue looked at him with dawning understanding in her face.

"Dis zombie character, de knigh' figures he ain' stupid - he gotta have himself a way out in case sometin' don' go well wit de firs' plan, _hein_? Y' ain' no master villain unless y' lef' y'self a way out. An' he was righ'. Dere were loopholes. A lot of loopholes. So dis 'ere knigh' set out t' destroy each an' every one before de heroes were done doin' dere part, hopin' he'd make it before dey thought dey'd done dat zombie guy good an' he jus' turned up again cos someone fergot t' check if de' freak left de' back door open." Rogue just kept looking at him.

"Y've no idea how many places he left a back door open, _chere_..." Remy trailed off, and she narrowed her eyes at him.

"So – y'all mean ta tell me y' spen' all that tahme jus' runnin' round the world makin' sure Apocalypse stayed gone?" Remy winced at her tone.

"Oui, chere, dat's de way it was... Remy never could tell a story," he tried to lighten the tension her angry stare was causing, but to little avail. She punched his arm - hard.

"Why didn' you tell us? We woulda helped you! Y' wanted ta run around playin' the hero y' coulda helped us t' start with! Y' shouldn' have gone by yerself y crazy Swamp Rat! What if somethin' _happened_ t' you? What if that controlling megalomaniac _thing_ had booby-traps laid out? What if you _died_ somewhere, _alone_ and no one else knew what you'd been doing so you'd be the only one who _knew_ about the backdoors and all that shit and – and – " Remy sighed and took her bare hand, placing it on his own cheek before she could protest. He felt the drain and pulled away quickly to ensure he didn't pass out. He reckoned the estimate was spot on – touch of wooziness, no loss of motor functions – but Rogue had both her hands over her eyes, mouthing things and shaking her head like there were mosquitoes about.

There were a thousand images fighting for first bid in her head and she had to try and sort them before they overwhelmed her, and as she pieced together the puzzle of his memories, she found herself understanding more than she really felt ready to. He had gone because of what she had said. Doing the wrong things for the right reasons. He had packed up, leaving no word behind but a cryptic note for Pyro and a message for his cousin that he might need assistance with info shortly and gone on a world tour to bring down any chance Apocalypse could ever have of returning.

Destruction of precious historical artifacts, breaking into some of the world's most elusive private collector's most fantastical private collections, lying, cheating and threatening his way into anywhere and everywhere that could give him an answer to the whereabouts of the next loophole – he'd truly dedicated himself to it. And then she saw it – tucked away into the other memories, something she was certain he hadn't meant to include. She heard him calling her beyond the murmur of countless voices in her head, narrating his doings, and she phased him out, focusing on the memory tat had so surprised her – shocked her even.

Jolting out of her stolen reminiscences, she looked at him as levelly as she could manage and said, "Ah get it. Thank you." The Cajun smiled, obviously relieved, at her and said,

"Remy'd do it again in a second, _ma chere_ – an now he tinks he better go, _non_? Y' wanted a bedtime story, an y' got one, as promised – by now your Wolverine migh' be lookin' fer de intruder an Remy would rather be a long way from here when he starts sniffin'," he joked, and Rogue smiled too, forcing the persistent memories back.

"Yeah... ya better go, Remy... Ah'll see ya 'round..." she tried so hard to keep the weirdness out of her voice but it snuck in there somehow and she could feel her poker-face slipping.

"_Chere_... De tings Remy's done over de years... Dey don' mean anytin' – dey're not –" Rogue shook her head and looked at him, the concern and – was it fear? – in his demonic eyes, and he fell silent.

"It's all just – a little overwhelmin' – okay? Ah'll see ya... Raght now Ah wanna be alone. Ah'd lahke a little tahme ta think about everythang ya showed me." He looked at her intensely for a second, and it seemed to her that his eyes glowed, and then a look of – was it confusion? – flitted across his face before he smoothed it over with a dose of bravado and stood up, kissing her hand in that old-fashioned, oh-so-suave way.

"Remy be around, _ma belle_, he ain' goin' nowhere..." he said softly, before taking a running jump out of her French windows and off the balcony's stone railing and making good his escape. She sat there for a moment, looking at the open doors and the outline of the moon in all her glory, and then sank into the memory completely.

~******************************************************************~

She was lying in a hospital bed, both arms bandaged to above her elbows, liquid fire seeming to sear through every crack in her whenever she breathed, but she knew that Rogue would be proud of her. This had all been to prove her right – that she could do the wrong things for the right reasons and not have to use anyone to do it. That she could be a good person. She knew she'd heal fast enough and then she could check herself out - at night, preferably, when no one would make a fuss. She'd go back to Bayville and look John up, assuming he was still there. If he wasn't she'd find him. They could start again together, compare burn scars. She'd have to ask him if he'd ever had his lungs fried, but knowing John he'd probably just ask awkward questions. No, she'd go back to Bayville and seek out Rogue. Find a way to make sure she was alright. Find a way to ensure she'd never have to deal with anything ever again...

~******************************************************************~

The memory ended abruptly and Rogue felt that odd, almost out-of-body feeling that came with fully entering into someone else's memories. She felt herself settle into her own body again and hen she felt secure in it she pondered what she had just experienced. He had come back for her? So it hadn't just been a coincidence... He had done it all on purpose, probably engineered the whole thing. Just to make her life easier? It couldn't be true. He'd been in a hospital after nearly being blown up in the final stage of his 'destroy-Apocalypse's-way-in' mission – they'd probably had him on every painkiller known to man and she knew from experience that they could give you some very strange ideas... It wasn't just that she couldn't believe he'd comeback for her sake, it was that she couldn't believe he'd bother doing any of the things he'd done. It just seemed too surreal. Luckily, to save her from further obsessing, at that moment her phone rang. The screen claimed it was Wanda, and she felt a surge of relief. She must be feeling better then, if she was up to talking to someone. She answered it with a strained but cheery, "Hey sugah!" knowing better than to brood on earlier events lest Wanda become moody again.

"Rogue...? I'm in love with it." Rogue had to sit up straight at that.

"You're what honeypie? Ah don't think Ah –"

"I'm in love with Pyro's book, Gods have mercy, and I need the sequel. You have to read it. Come over tomorrow?" Rogue almost laughed. This was her Wanda, intense, confusing, and not a little demanding.

"Anythang ya want honey, Ah'll be there. Is it really that good?" Wanda hesitated, then sighed.

"It's better than anything we've read this year. You have to come get the sequel with me tomorrow and then we'll swap when you're done with this one."

"But sugah – does he write the way he acts? Ah gotta know if it's as wacked out as he is," Rogue warned, and Wanda laughed on the other end.

"I don't know what he's really like, Rogue, I never really met him, but if he wrote this then he can't be all bad... See you tomorrow?" Rogue smiled fondly.

"Definitely. Sleep well sugah." Wanda murmured a ditto in response and hung up, and Rogue felt at peace once more. Cajuns be damned, it would all work itself out in the end. The Rogue had things to do.


	9. Sequels And Surprises

**_DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the characters, if I did they'd have better clothes and more to choose between, and there'd be more hugging, because we all like to see hugging._**

**_(This is my little Public Display Of Gratitude for LaceyLou76 - who accurately predicted Jonda for this installment; anon goddess - who desired updates; and Bloodypassion - who also desired updates. Here you all are, tell me what you think.)_**

**~*****************************************************************~**

_**~Scarlet Letter~**_

**_Sequels And Surprises_**

Kurt bampfed in balancing a tray on his tail-tip and hanging from the chandelier. This was a fairly normal occurrence so Rogue let it go and finished blow-drying her hair, motioning him to put her breakfast tray on the desk, which he did through a series of complex acrobatics that seemed to suggest he lacked a spine in the medical sense.

"_Type O_, sis? You're in a good mood," he commented, jerking his thumb-like appendage towards her stereo where Peter Steele was indeed serenading his sister via the medium of _Black No 1_. Rogue just smiled at her adoptive brother and said,

"Well, it's a good day today. Ah'm goin' ta see Wanda and listen to her review of her new favourite book and then we'll probably catch a movie or something."

"Ah..." Kurt nodded in understanding. Rogue's good days were the ones that were as normal as could possibly be engineered with the majority of her social circle being mutants. She liked days with as few unnatural goings-on as at all possible, and going to see a friend to talk about books was to Kurt's mind about as normal as you could get when you were Rogue. No wonder she seemed happy. She wrinkled her pert little nose and then broke out in a grin reserved for appreciation of food.

"Aw, Kurt, ya got me bacon and eggs? Ya big fuzzy elf, c'mere..." she gave him a hug that smelled of lavender and ruffled his blue bangs affectionately.

"You're the best brother in the world," she said, and he returned the hug a little shyly. He still wasn't quite used to her good moods. They were more frequent now but he sometimes felt unsure as to how he should react. Mostly he just returned the gesture and pretended it was all very normal.

"Ya got any plans today?" she asked as she sat down next to her breakfast and picked up the cup of coffee he'd also had the foresight to bring her. He shrugged.

"Was gonna go and see Amanda but she has to visit her grandmuzzer so I'm just going to stay at home and see what happens." His sister gave him a sympathetic look over the rim of her cup.

"Ya'll miss her don't ya?" He nodded and sighed, but kept the little smile on for her sake.

"Yeah but it's okay. We see each other when we can and zat's fine... besides, her parents can't resist the fuzzy dude for long!" Rogue laughed with him and made a mental note to get him something good as a thanks-for-breakfast gift.

"Who can? Now get goin' while Ah eat mah bacon an' Ah'll see ya later, alraght? Be good while Ah'm gone!" He nodded, made the peace sign, and bampfed away to God only knew where. She wished for a moment that she could do something for him and Amanda, but like she always did when her thoughts strayed to possible way she could help them, she came up blank. She certainly doubted it could help if she went to talk to Amanda's parents. _'Hey, Ah'm Kurt's Goth mutant sister, and he's a great guy really if ya can ignore the blue fur.'_ Yeah, that just wouldn't work. She ate relatively undisturbed bar a text message from Pietro expressing his relief that Rogue had been right and Wanda seemed much better after her alone time, and took the tray downstairs with her where she met Ororo in the kitchen.

"Good morning, dear, how are you today?" the weather goddess gave her a sunny smile which Rogue returned gratefully. She had been worried that the student's mother-figure might be upset with her after learning the truth about she and Wanda's excursion the previous day, but her concerns appeared to be unfounded.

"Mornin' Storm, Ah'm fahne. Ah'm goin' ta see Wanda, check up on her. She was kinda out of it las' naght," she said, putting away her breakfast things and facing the older woman, who was observing her with a very strange sort of pride.

"You give her our regards then, and tell her we're all so proud of the two of you. You did so well yesterday, handling things all on your own and the Professor agrees with me that you showed yourself to be more than capable of making decisions in a tight spot." Rogue blushed under her warm gaze, and Storm added, "I'm so proud of the way you've grown, child." Before Rogue knew it, she was enjoying one of Storm's patented, Clucking-Mother-Hen-Hugs, and she felt a sudden moment of clarity. This was what normal kids felt every time their real mother hugged them. Pulling away, she gave Ororo a watery smile and said,

"Thanks – for everythang... Ah'll be back later. Call me if y'all need me fer anythang." Storm watched the girl run out of the kitchen with a glowing look, feeling rather than hearing Logan sidle up to her.

"Stripes know yet?" She shook her head.

"Rogue has been through so much lately, the professor thought it would be best to give her some space while things are still peaceful before we give her that kind of responsibility." Logan made a grunting noise that Storm knew from long experience meant he approved.

"Girl's been like my own daughter since she got here," he confessed, and Ororo turned to face him with a triumphant grin on her lovely face.

"I thought you'd never admit that." Logan shrugged.

"I don't have to admit anything t' you, you know everything that goes on around here before it happens anyway." Storm smiled and shook her head.

"You and me both," she laughed.

"Yeah, maybe." Logan crossed his arms across his considerable chest and raised an eyebrow at her.

"But those kids are damn lucky to have you, 'Ro."

**~*******************************************************************~**

"Wanda! You've got visitors!" "Hmmm?" Wanda was sprawled on the settee, re-reading the end of her book, completely ignoring the rest of the world when the book was snatched from her hands and she was forced to sit up and pay attention, about to hex the offender. Rogue just laughed at her offended expression.

"Awww, c'mon sugah, Ah jus' wanna see it! Freddy let me in," she said sweetly, and Wanda rolled her eyes at her.

"I thought you were Toad again – he was doing that earlier because he wanted to know what was so great about 'some book'." It was clear from the way she said it that 'some book' was clearly definitely _some book_, and that she was more than aggravated at Toad's inability to keep himself to himself. They already knew he had no chance in hell of ever being appreciative of literature. Rogue grimaced. That would have earned him a place on her shit list too.

"Asshole," she said casually, flicking through the first few pages of Wanda's book. "Ya wanna go get the sequel?" she asked, noticing the shifty look in Wanda's eyes.

"Umm... I kinda already made Pietro run down and get it for me – I was just reading the best part again because it's so good..." The guilty look she sent the red-and-black gift-wrapped rectangle lying on the table Rogue earned her a laugh and a big hug, as the Southerner tried to keep from accusing her of things Kitty would want to accuse her of later.

"Y're really into this aren't ya? Ah haven' seen ya read somethang twice lahke this since ya read _The Picture Of Dorian Gray_," she said with incredulity dripping off her tongue, and Wanda nodded enthusiastically.

"It's just so moving, the way he's written the characters and the atmosphere and everything, it's just perfect, he's a genius!" Rogue raised an eyebrow.

"Ya sure ya aren't runnin' a fever, sugah?" Wanda stared her down.

"Don't be a bitch. Read it and you'll see what I mean. Go home and read it right now." It was said imperiously and she coupled it with a stately point towards the door that practically made it an order, and Rogue just smiled and said,

"Sure, honeypie, if that'll make ya happy, Ah'll leave ya with ya dream book an' call ya later." This seemed to please Wanda who gave her a hug and followed her to the doorway of the living room where she was camped out.

"I want a full review when you call me, no weaselling out of it with a 'it's nice'. Brutal honesty!" she said seriously, and Rogue nodded, saluting.

"_Jawohl, mein Führer_!" she snapped out, clicking the heels of her steel-capped combats together, and Wanda gave her a shove.

"Go! Go forth and read! Read like the wind!" she called after her, and Rogue waved over her shoulder at the witch, who nodded once in assurance that she would indeed have her full review later, and then disappeared into the living room again to get busy with her sequel.

**~*******************************************************************~**

Rogue was about to let herself out, but it seemed the fates had other idea for she opened the door and almost stepped on someone who took three steps back, gave her a big smile and said, "Terribly sorry Sheila, I'm lookin' fer Rocky."

The wicked smile that curved around Rogue's purple-lacquered lips made him take another half-step back, and she chuckled to herself. This would no doubt be an interesting addition to Wanda's perfectly planned day.

"Ah don't know if Lance is in, Freddy's in the kitchen an' Wanda's in the living room. What are ya doin' here anyway, Pyro?" He shrugged.

"Like I said – I need t' see Rocky about somethin'. What are you doin' here?" She smiled around the fangs the gods hadn't seen fit to give her but which were no doubt in the original blueprints and said as innocently as she could manage,

"Ah was just here to borrow a book from Wanda. If Lance is in, he'll be in the garage, but Ah'd ask Fred if he knows where he is if Ah were you. Bye..." she waved at him as she strode down the driveway, and dissolved into fits of giggles as soon as she was out of sight. This would be hilarious, she'd need to get the run-down from Kitty later because one thing was certain – the level of humiliation this foreboded would never make it to Wanda's version.

**~*******************************************************************~**

The giant Fred had directed him to the garage where Lance was busy doing something messy to his jeep, and the hand the other teen reached out to him was covered in oil. So _flammable_, so _tempting_. Dragging his eyes away and putting his best foot forward, however, he just said, "G'day mate, I'm here about that room y've got up fer grabs. Offer still open?" Lance grinned and nodded and wiped his hands on the filthy rag he'd hung from his belt loop.

"Yeah, sure, if you can front me two hundred for the first half of this month then it's all yours," the amiable Avalanche said, looking Pyro over. Tall, lean, with a shock of fiery hair and a ready grin, he only really knew the Australian mutant from battle, but from what he'd heard he would fit right in at the Brotherhood. A meaty hand descended on his shoulder and he looked up at the Blob expectantly. Fred didn't usually get involved in things that were money-related, but if he had something to add it would likely be important.

"Lance, we gotta run this by Wanda first..." Fred reminded him, looking around him furtively as though they were doing something inherently wrong. Lance glanced from Pyro to his friend thoughtfully.

"Guess you're right. Toad doesn't care and Pietro will go with whatever Wanda says but it's her call," he turned his attention to Pyro again, who was observing them with a detached sort of look that made them think of people who were pretending to listen in class so as to avoid detention. His eyes even looked a little glassy.

"Then we'll go an' run it by the Sheila," he said cheerily, surprising them by suddenly seeming to be very much in the loop, and Lance gave Blob a look as Pyro started to walk away. Fred nodded to his comrade-in-arms who promptly held Pyro back.

"Er – you've never been formally introduced to Wanda, have you?" he asked, and the Australian shook his head.

"No. Sheila's a total mystery ta me, mate. All I know is her Daddy was a righ' bastard to 'er an' she's really close ta that Rogue Gambit likes ta stalk in his free time," Lance raised an eyebrow at Blob and looked back at Pyro nervously.

"Riiiight... Well, thing is, Wanda's a little... She can be a bit _moody_ sometimes, and – " Fred interrupted him.

"She's a nice girl but she's got a temper on her so if she tells you to do something, just do it. An' she likes to be left alone when she's reading. Oh – and don't wake her up if she's taking a nap. And if she blows stuff up and doesn't tell you why, don't ask." Lance nodded, glad that Fred had been able to sum it up without making her sound like she should still be in an asylum.

Pyro just smiled at them. "I can do that," he said, in a tone that did very little to dispel Lance'' general unease.

**~*******************************************************************~**

They stood in the doorway, looking at the Scarlet Witch who was twisted into a strange position on the settee, humming something to herself and deeply engrossed in her new book, none of them wanting to disturb the peace. And so it came to pass that Pyro did it for them, and Lance Alvers experienced another of those odd palpitations he'd started having since Wanda came to live with them. He did the unthinkable – he knocked on the door. Wanda tilted her head back to look at them upside down. And the look on her face threw the Brotherhood Boys. It was a mixture of surprise, disbelief, and something Lance recognised from Kitty's many fangirl-moments. That special brand of shocked devotion that stemmed from a deep-seated, irrational desire to own the object of the admiration. Lance felt his life flash before his eyes. He put a hand on Blob's arm and said his final goodbye to the world, wishing he could have held Kitty one last time.

"Pardon me luv, but I think your mate here has somethin' he'd like to ask you," Pyro said charmingly, and Wanda's eyes widened. It almost looked like she'd been born with her brother's speed because she was suddenly sitting up, her book had vanished, and there was a look on her face directed at Lance of '_yes_?'. It took him a little longer to overcome his abject terror, and when he did, he covered the awkwardness by sitting across from her on the edge of the armchair's seat and putting on his reasonable-adult face.

"Wanda, you know we put out the word that we had a room going spare, and we need the cash so we're renting it? Well, Pyro here's come to ask if he can rent it off us. He's got the money, we just wanted to make sure this was all okay with you before we promised him anything - you know, cos you live here too and you're our only girl and we didn't want to spring this on you or anything, but – "

"He can stay." Lance looked at her as though expecting conditions, but she just gave him the wake-up eye-roll and stood up.

"I'll be in my room," she added. "Give him his key, show him the house, let him know the rules. And when Pietro gets back tell him about this before he gets all huffy. Tell him I gave the go-ahead for it, he'll be okay with that." She brushed past Pyro on her way out, and the Australian gave Lance a cocky wink.

"Don' see the problem, mate," he said innocently, turning to Fred who seemed to have decided to pretend all was well with the world and that Pyro shouldn't be lying on the lawn, eviscerated, for calling Wanda anything but her real name.

"On with the tour, eh?"


	10. Of Lunatics And Ladies

_**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters, I just manipulate them and occasionally dream about them, draw them, and imagine them in compromising positions. There is nothing wrong in that.**_

_**(This is my Thank You to the following fabulous reviewers who keep this show on the road: Laceylou76 who, if I owned anything, I would share Remy with in Saturdays and you can't say fairer than that!; anon goddess who deserves a cookie for being so lovely; Agata93 who correctly said that this story need more reviews so I suggest all you lurkers get BUSY damn you! jesus may not be coming but that's no excuse!; and Bloodypassion who ws kind enough to review again, and should have gumdrops for her troubles! You lot are fantastic and you make me want to update when you review. Hint Hint, not that you seem to need encouraging! ^^)**_

_**~*******************************************************************~**_

_**~Scarlet Letter ~**_

**_Of Lunatics And Ladies_**

" – and she let him _live_?"

"I know, _crazy_, right?"

"Ya know I prefer the term 'mentally unstable', mate," Pyro said dryly, passing the doorway to the kitchen with a long black coat slung over his shoulders, and Pietro raced after him, stopping him just beyond the mantle and poking him in the chest.

"How come my sister didn't kill you earlier?" he demanded, an unattractive look of jealousy contorting his fine features. The Australian rolled his eyes.

"Maybe because I treated her like I'd treat any sheila I'd only just met instead of actin' like she was a bloody time bomb," he suggested, batting away Pietro's hand as though it were something annoying to be swatted at will. This naturally served only to infuriate the arrogant mutant and he raised his voice accordingly.

"If you knew my sister at all you'd know why we act the way we do! Why the hell did she agree to letting you stay here anyway – I'd have thought she'd had enough of frea – " Lance and Fred who were watching from the kitchen door swore afterwards that they hadn't seen it coming at all, so it could only be assumed that either they weren't paying enough attention or the diagnosis of Pyro as 'mentally unstable' was severely lacking an add-on in the form of 'and lethally fast'. In spite of all that, the next thing anyone knew was that the speedy annoyance commonly known as Pietro was face-down in the middle of the hallway, Pyro knelt on his back on Pietro's unsurprisingly delicate wrists as though this were prime-time TV and the Wrestlemania finals were on, hissing into the other mutant's ear.

"If I were you _mate_, I'd be careful what I went shoutin' about in a house where the only female inhabitant _happens_ to be a former asylum inmate but just doesn't know it yet and who hates the f-word just as much as I do because," here he paused for an almost gleeful chuckle, "las' time I had a chat with our friend Mastermind, he wasn' sure how much longer it'd be 'til all those pretty little mem'ries of that hole you let your ol' man throw her in started popping up again. And when they do, I reckon you'll want as much evidence in your favour as possible – and screamin' the place down with language like that ain' gonna get you much more than an early grave."

Pietro wriggled, wide-eyed but unable to speak. Pyro's knees were pinning him in a way that was constricting his lungs, effectively silencing him if he wanted to avoid asphyxiation.

"Now, if I were you – an' thank God I'm not because I don' much fancy your hair – I'd never use that word again. And I'd let people go about their business instead o' pouncin' on 'em because I'm pissed off that my sister didn't maim them for bein' nice." He got off the now-gasping Pietro with a pleasant smile and nodded at Lance and Fred before leaving them, the front door clicking shut behind him as they stood there with total shock painted all over them. Pietro got up shakily, clutching at the wall for support, and Lance emitted a long, low whistle.

"Think it's alright to use the term '_really_ mentally unstable?'" he asked with ill-concealed mirth, and Pietro glared at him.

"He was right," Fred said calmly. "You shouldn't be so down on people. Wanda wouldn't like it." The giant teenager turned and walked back to the kitchen where his pizza was waiting, and Lance stifled a laugh as Pietro went completely red in the face and started to rant.

"Did you see what that fucking lunatic did?! When I tell Wanda his ass is _so_ over! She'll bury him so deep no one will ever find him and who the fuck would even want to?! The guy's _insane_! Maybe we should have _him_ committed against his will!" Lance just rolled his eyes at the irate speed-demon and said,

"Get over it man. There's pizza in the kitchen with your name on it and it's getting cold. And Wanda doesn't find out about this – think she would laugh if you told her you got whupped by someone who probably knows the theme song to Teletubbies?" Pietro's face darkened.

"You suck," was his witty come-back as he stomped into the kitchen to eat his dinner, brooding over possible ways to take his revenge on the pyromaniac who'd actually dared to tell him to behave like a normal human being. The nerve.

**_~*******************************************************************~_**

"Y' still wanna live there now y' know speedy's out t' get y'?" Remy asked, taking a swig of his beer, and St. John shrugged.

"I honestly don' care what he's out t' get. He's pathetic. You'd 'a' cried if y'd seen how easy it was ta floor 'im, the stupid bastard." Remy looked at him pointedly.

"Y' don' like de _homme_. Y' don' like 'im at all," he observed, and Pyro gave him a look.

"Alrigh', _mon ami_, Remy jus' makin' de observations, he won' mention it again – so," he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively in that special way of his that made it three ticks dirtier than when anyone else attempted the same manoeuvre. "De _petit friponne_ readin' books?"

"She was readin' when I got there. An' your Sheila with the hair was there too. Said she'd gone there to borrow somethin'. Still don' get what the hell's such a big deal about their readin' habits. Either you're keepin' somethin' from a mate or you're just as cracked as me, and none of those are good options. Think stalkin' that Rogue Sheila's turned your head." Remy laughed and the Australian just sighed into his beer.

"Not that I don' get the attraction, mate, I do, I jus' think you're in over your 'ead wi' this one. She migh' be pretty as all hell on fire but to 'er you'll always be the bad guy. An' so will I." Remy mused over this.

"Remy will admit defeat de day y' admit dat fire-fighters do de world a favour," he said casually, and received a prompt and surprisingly well-aimed – due to all the beer they'd consumed over the two-hour period of their stay in this pub – punch on the arm.

"As you say, _mon ami_, let de games begin." He smiled to himself, ignoring St. John's obvious exasperation.

"Y' don' even have another date or whatever the hell what you two did last nigh' was – how d'you expect ta get ta see 'er when she lives with that psychotic pseudo-Sabretooth who actually showers, and fifty-odd mutant teens with more hormones than bloody brain cells?" he asked him, and Remy shrugged.

"Half de fun is makin' it work – Remy find a way." He looked sideways at his companion who drank up and shoved the empty bottle to one side where it joined their growing collection. "Y' sure y' wan' t' talk abou' brain cells, _mon ami_?"

"I'm a best-selling bloody author mate – I don' need 'em," St' John quipped, and Remy proceeded to fall off his barstool, stomach cramping from the laughter born of the solid truth in the statement.

"Y' got one ting righ' dere," he said breathlessly, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes and St. John Allerdyce smirked.

"I think I jus' solved your riddle."

_**~*******************************************************************~**_

Rogue was completely, totally engrossed in Pyro's stroke of literary genius accompanied by Alice Cooper on the stereo telling her just how much he wanted to taste her, when Kitty phased through her door, already talking.

" – won't believe what Lance just told me on the phone!" She sat up, beckoning the Valley Girl to come and sit next to her. This was bound to be good, Kitty's gossip always was. Rogue had yet to catch her using her amazing mutant ability to sense gossip forming, but she knew that must be the root of her ability to always know everything interesting even when no one else did or was supposed to.

"Why, what's going on? Is it good?" Rogue's full attention was on Kitty, who basked for a moment in the withholding of supreme knowledge before she had to give in or burst, and the dam broke.

"Okay, so: Earlier today, that Pyro dude like, came to see Lance about that ad they put out for that room they wanted to rent out? And like, Lance was all 'We gotta ask Wanda', right? And they went to ask Wanda and get _this_ – Pyro called her '_love'_, and she totally didn't hurt him!"

Rogue gasped dramatically. "_No_!"

"I know, right? It's _so_ _weird_!" Kitty glowed in the reaction Rogue had given her, perhaps knowing on some level that her friend was feeding her dramatic side, but not willing to admit it to herself.

"So, like, Pyro disappears after they've shown him around and everything – and we gotta like, find out what he does for a living now because Lance said he just, like, pulled five hundred outta _nowhere_! – and then Pietro comes home and the guys tell him!"

"How did he take _that_?" Kitty's blissful expression said it all, but Kitty being Kitty, she told her story anyhow.

"Lance said he went all big-brother and was _totally_ jealous that Pyro, like, didn't get hexed or anything for doing that, and apparently he was getting _really_ angry about it – so childish – "

Rogue nodded at that, "_So_ childish," she agreed, and Kitty continued.

"I _know_, right? So then Pyro comes down to go somewhere and Pietro like, totally _faces_ him and says something about how Wanda shouldn't have let him live there because she must be tired of crazy people, and Pyro like totally slams him into the floor and tells him off! How _awesome_ is that?!"

Rogue really did gasp this time. "Oh mah _Gawd_!"

"And that's like, _totally_ okay because Pietro was being a real prick, and Pyro like, told him not to call people freaks and said something about how Mastermind said Wanda's fake memories wouldn't last and how he should watch it with the crazy-jokes." Kitty looked at Rogue with huge, serious blue eyes, and Rogue said,

"Lahke, _wow_..."

**_~*******************************************************************~_**

Wanda had just finished the last chapter of the sequel to St. John Allerdyce's wonderful book and she was busy redoing her eyeliner where it had smudged during chapter sixty, which had been quite the emotional chapter, when she heard the front door slam open and the raucous singing. Intrigued, she opened her door and went to the landing, looking down at the tottering couple who were serenading her unwittingly with a heart-felt chorus of Alice Cooper's famous single _Poison_. She couldn't help a giggle, glad that they were obviously too sozzled to hear her over their song.

" – but your lips are venomous POISOOOOOON!"

" – you're poison running through my veins – "

" - you're POISON!"

"Ah' don' wanna break dese chaaains!"

"YOU'RE A DEAD MAN!" Wanda looked around her at this impolite interruption of their drunken performance to see her brother come flying in from left field to collide with Pyro, who side-stepped him using either fantastic reflexes or that unique luck some drunks appear to have, and causing Pietro to instead collide with the wall, which gained another few cracks. Pyro proceeded to pick him up, dust him off, and waltz with him in a highly undignified manner while Gambit leant against the opposite wall, apparently pissing himself laughing at the ridiculous spectacle of her twin being dragged about semi-conscious by a warbling Australian drunk. She had to admit, it was funny as hell. Until Lance showed up.

"What the _fuck_ is going on here? Pyro? _Gambit_? What the hell you a-hole, what are you even _doing_ here? It's three in the morning!"

"Gambit be enjoying de dancing," the Cajun managed between sobs of laughter, and Lance stamped in his impotent fury, causing the floor to ripple before Wanda swept her hand across the scene and yelled,

"_**Enough**_!" She stalked down the stairs regally, detaching Pyro from Pietro carefully, her twin looking at her with wide, frightened eyes.

"Wanda..? What happened?" he asked in a small voice, and she steered him over towards Fred.

"You were being a jack-off. Fred, take him to his room please, Lance, you too," she said to the boys, and Avalanche opened his mouth to protest.

"I didn't ask a question," she said with a slight growl at the end of 'question' that cowed him as effectively as if she had been swinging a whip and screaming. The boys faded away into the gloom as though she'd murdered them all and had been giving orders to their respective ghosts and, satisfied, she rounded on the two drunken disturbers of the peace.

Gambit looked at her with rapidly blinking red eyes, clearly trying to say something. She put a hand on her hip and cocked her weight to the right and he snapped out of it, his smirk firmly in place.

"Dere it was! Remy knew dere was a reason _ma belle chere_ likes y', _ma petit friponne_," he said saucily, and she smiled at him.

"You're hopeless and you don't deserve to lick my boot," she said airily. The Cajun shrugged and grinned.

"_Un homme_ can' argue wit dat logic," he said casually, elegantly stepping down to give Pyro his turn. The Australian turned cerulean eyes to the Scarlet Witch and fell to his knees in front of her. Even Remy raised an eyebrow. She just stood as if paralysed, not believing it.

"Oh, fair and lovely maiden, grant this poor, churlish fool your pardon, for he knew not what he did, and, if given the opportunity, would vow to devote the remainder of his existence to the doing of your will and yours alone – " Wanda's eyelashes fluttered and she actually let him take her hand at this point, which resulted in Remy's near brush with respiratory failure.

" – if only you would take pity on one who is so wholly unworthy as to be nothing in your perfect eyes..." Wanda's equally perfect lips parted, but not a sound escaped them until a little 'Oh' that could just as well have been an exhalation fell past them and Pyro took this as his cue to stand up and wink at her before he – in his not-so-serious everyday voice said,

"Righ' mate, party's over, give us a call when y' wake up tomorra an' we'll have a chinwag, yeah?" Remy just nodded, walking out with but one thought in the forefront of his mind. Surely there was somewhere open at this hour that sold brain disinfectant?

Once Remy had left, Pyro turned to Wanda who was just standing there, twiddling the rings on her right hand around over and over with the fingers of her left.

"I'm really sorry abou' all that, Wanda, nex' time I won' bring 'im back," he said reasonably, and she shook her head.

"You – you know I – ?" she left the question open and he smiled at her.

"Don' worry luv, I 'aven' been stalkin' ya. I saw the title of the one ya had your pretty little nose in earlier. Sorry." She went a delicate shade of peach as opposed to the untarnished milk her skin usually resembled and he assumed that was her equivalent of blushing.

"I didn't know you were the author until Rogue told me – I didn't know your real name, and she and I are always picking up books just o see if they're any good, I really didn't – "

He made a gesture that silenced her and said, "Don' worry, I won' ask if ya hated it. I'm flattered ya were int'rested enough ta get it in the firs' place. No worries luv. Sorry I disturbed you, I didn' mean ta make an entrance – well – " he laughed "Maybe not that big of an entrance anyhow!"

She just fiddled with a stray lock of flame-red hair that was dangling near her ear and looked the other way as he passed her. Thinking he'd already set foot on the stair, she turned only to find he was looking over her opposite shoulder, and she couldn't move at all when he tucked the lock behind her ear and said,

"Sweet dreams, Wanda..." before ascending the stairway to his own room, leaving her there in the hall, the square millimetre of skin on her cheek his bare finger had touched as he brushed back her hair burning as though he'd singed it.


	11. Mute Of Malice?

**_DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of this, unfortunately._**

**_(Bloodypassion, Laceylou76, Agata93, anon goddess, you guys rock arse with socks on and this one's for you.)_**

**_~*******************************************************************~_**

_**~Scarlet Letter ~**_

_**Mute of Malice?**_

Waking up took longer than usual, but it got done after he reminded himself that he'd done something worth remembering the night before. But what? Dressing was slightly more fiddly than usual, but he ignored the fact that all his clothing seemed to want to fight him, and just pulled on a black T-shirt and the closest, least fiddly jeans he could find. How he'd managed to spread all his belongings over his floor when it had only been his floor for the better part of 24 hours was a bit of a stretch for him but once again, he put it in the box in the back of his head labelled 'Who Cares?' where all such things were filed. It couldn't possibly be important.

He vaguely remembered the whereabouts of the kitchen and managed to find it without incident although halfway down the stairs he managed to convince himself he'd gone blind before he realised it was just a blink that hadn't quite caught up with the rest of the program yet. Thus satisfied that all of his basic functions were still in working order, he proceeded to find their kettle which wasn't a kettle and, once he'd decided it didn't work which was easily found out since it likely did and he was simply too lazy to find a power outlet into which it could be plugged, he found a clean mug that read 'This will be thrown at you if you speak while it is in use' and filled it with water which he blitzed in the microwave until it was boiling, then procured a crumpled teabag out of nowhere and popped it in, settling down to wait for it to spread it's goodness. It was still before noon and the whole house was silent as a tomb which was what it was when everyone was still asleep, so he had peace and quiet to nurse his gritty eyes and the odd stabbing someone was doing inside his left temple.

When he was satisfied the teabag had done it's very best, he removed it and choked the liquid with milk he'd made certain was still good – you could never tell with American milk – and threw the bag away. Picking up the mug with both hands and steering towards the living room utilising the part of his brain generally reserved for benign take-overs when the rest was occupied with balancing something warm and talking his mild hangover into submission. It worked well and he backed into the room successfully, closing the door behind him with an elbow dextrous enough to have done similar things before. Curling in on himself in a plushy armchair covered with red velvet, he murmured sweet things into his tea, sipping it as though it was the elixir of youth and relishing the warmth that spread through him. He despised the cold. It ate away at his soul.

"Oh – I'm sorry, I'll just go back up..."

He looked up to see Wanda, resplendent in a faded Black Sabbath T-shirt and black silk hotpants stood in the door with a steaming mug in one hand and a plate with what appeared to be a tower of buttery toast on it. He cleared his throat to get rid of any inappropriate comments that might have been lurking about there and said,

"No, no it's your living room," he made to stand up but she shook her head with a little smile.

"Guess it's big enough for both of us... I don't usually get up this early, I just couldn't sleep and my room was cold, so..." she trailed off for the second time and he noticed that peachy flush in her cheeks.

"You lot don' have central heatin'? My room was bloody freezing," he said with a roll of his eyes that could have been put off if the sharp stab behind one of them was anything to go by, and a smile that made her look away.

She walked over to the settee and perched on it, arranging her things on the coffee table while humming to herself quietly, and it sounded familiar to him. Trying to place it, he noticed the way she moved, deliberately not looking at him, her fingers curved tightly around her mug, which he noticed read something-something-'Nostradamus knew it first'. He smiled.

"_How did we get this far apart? We used to be so close together - how did we get this far apart? I thought this love would last forever..._" he sang softly, and she looked up at him, startled.

"The Cure, _Apart_... You were humming it," he explained, and she nodded, too quickly, her hair dipping into the little crevice by her eye.

"Right, sorry, I wasn't thinking," she said, and he laughed. And then winced.

"Luv, I do about a thousand things every day I shoulda' thought through before I did 'em but didn' bother to – ya can sing or dance or scream fer all I care – I ain' one ta judge," he said kindly, and she smiled at him properly.

"Things you don't think through – like last night?" she asked sarcastically, and he racked his brains for what he might have done. Singing with Remy, check. Dancing with her brother, check. Quoting a passage from the most romantic scene of _that_ book that came right before _that_ scene... Oh Gods no. _Why_? Oh, she'd been upset. _But still, why'd ya do it St. John, you bloody dimwit?!_ He blinked to clear his head of the voices – they could argue later – and looked at her seriously.

"I didn' mean ta tease ya luv, I'm sorry. Ya know what they say about Australians who drink?" She shook her head, wrinkling her nose.

"I've no idea but they should come up with somethin' insultin' because we shouldn' be allowed ta do it." She giggled at him.

"I'm not mad. I just... I thought it was kind of... it's not a problem so there's no awkwardness, okay? Me and Rogue bought that book before I knew who you really were and I was just surprised to find out it was you... This isn't going to be weird." He nodded, taking a fortifying sip of his tea. Ah. _Tetley's_. Nectar of the Gods, Rebuilder of Souls, Warmer of Cockles, how – _the Sheila's talking you dingbat, pay a-bloody-ttention! _

"It's that good, is it?" she was looking at him with a smile twisting her full red lips, and he focused on her eyes instead and pointed to his mug.

"This?" she nodded in the affirmative. "Luv, _this_ is _Tetley's_. There's no finer beverage anywhere and I'd stake my powers on that. Not that that's a very clever idea if you're playing poker with Remy an' the Tabby-tooth, mind you, but that's neither here nor somewhere up a tree." He realised she was actually smiling at his ramblings, and the voice in his head started doing the Full Monty, which he had to pause for, if only to work out how a disembodied, unclothed internal voice could even perform that particular dance.

"Do you have narcolepsy by any chance?" she asked dryly, and he shook his head.

"Not that I'm aware, luv. Just a mild hangover and voices in my head that take their clothes off." He regretted that last part for more than one reason.

"Do they tell you to kill people?" she asked with interest, and he grinned.

"Only myself and not often enough ta take seriously," he teased, and she laughed again.

"Then I wouldn't worry... Can I taste it?" she pointed to his tea, and he debated with the voice. She wants it. _She can't have it, it's ours._ Yes, I know that, but she asked nicely – _If she tastes it she'll want it all!_ Well... _Fine!_

"Sorry about that luv, was I gone long?" she shook her head and he grinned.

"Right-o then! Have a go at this," he said, handing over the mug which she took with both hands. She looked at him over the rim, steady-eyed, and he saw the minute motion of her neck when she swallowed. Her eyes widened.

"Oh my Gods..." Her voice was breathy and awed and he looked at her triumphantly.

"_John_... How much more of this do you have...?" she asked, eyes heavily-lidded, and he totted up on his fingers. The voice told him not to but the voice wasn't called John, and Wanda had said _John_ in that fabulously sensual way, not _upsetting disembodied voice that lives in John's head_. So the voice could eff off.

"Six – no, I'm fibbin', seven packs. Why luv?" Her eyes shone.

"Can I borrow some?" His smile rivalled hers.

"Have, luv, you can _have_ as much as y' like." She licked her lips and held his mug closer to her, possessively.

"_Now_..?"

"Certainly. Come with me."

**_~*******************************************************************~_**

She was by now _very_ concerned for Wanda's safety. Pyro was clearly not in his right mind – thank _God_ he wasn't a telepath! – and Wanda needed to be on her guard. So she did the only thing a good friend could. Reached for her mobile and pressed speed-dial three. It answered after six rings, and Wanda's voice sounded entirely too languid for Rogue's taste.

"Rogue? What's up? Done with my book yet?" She asked, and Rogue began to pace her room.

"Sugah, Kitty told me all about what happened yesterday when you weren't there, Ah wan' ya ta be careful with Pyro, he's not – "

"He's right here!"

"Yeah, honey, Ah know – "

"We're drinking tea!"

"Well sugah that's nahce, but – "

"Oh, and I have things to tell you, I'll call you later, the marshmallows are done!" And Wanda hung up on her.

"Oh. Mah. Gawd. _Argh_!" Rogue stuffed her mobile into the front pocket of her torn cargos and pulled on a hoodie. She was halfway through the garment when a muffled voice said,

"_Bonjour, ma belle_." And she stumbled and fell in a heap on the floor, one wrist through the armhole of her hoodie, the rest of her torso somewhere inside it. The only thing that actually managed escape from the clutches of the nefarious hoodie was the shriek she emitted before impact with the floor. Large, warm hands lifted her onto her feet gently and helped her find the right holes for the right limbs and once her head popped out of the top, the ranting began.

"Remy LeBeau, y'all are gonna get it so bad, d'ya have any ah-dea what your friend's doin' with Wanda?! That psycho's in her house, and he's convinced her ta have some kinda sick tea-party with him what the hell were you thinking, don' you guys have some kinda help that comes in ta keep him in lahne?!" Her finger was so close to his nose he was going cross-eyed so he took a step back. She followed him. He had to push hr arm to the side.

"_Chere_, y' not gonna like dis but Pyro ain' dere ta hurt anyone – Wanda's jackass brother did dat t' himself an' Remy swears he knows Pyro ain' dere t' do anythin' bad, please don' go anywhere wit an axe – "

"What now?" the look she gave him was classic, the oddest mixture of fury and confusion and wrinkled nose he'd ever seen but he didn't dare laugh. Or do anything else.

"Remy didn' say notin'. Anyhow, y' gotta calm down _ma chere_, Wanda's alrigh', Remy _promesse_ de firs' one t' gut de firebug if he does sometin' bad will be Remy himself, _hein_? Jus' take a deep breath, _belle_. Dat's it." Rogue took a deep breath. And resumed shouting.

"Why'd ya let that lunatic loose on Wanda? Ya know how fragile she is! Ya know she's been through enough shit! What did'ya go an' do that for?!"

"Pyro wanted ta move in dere fer personal reasons, Remy didn' ask! He swore he wasn' gonna do notin' bad, chere – we even wen' out las' nigh' an' he was _une ange parfait_, Remy swears – if Wanda wants ta talk to him den we can' do notin'!"

"But she won' talk ta _me_!" The break in Rogue's voice and the shine that came to her eyes were simultaneous with the turning of her head and then her whole body so she wasn't facing him. And he understood, suddenly.

"_Oh, ma chere..._" he put his arms around her waist, giving her a sort of backwards hug. It had to be better than the convulsive one she'd fashioned for herself by putting her hands on her shoulders. She was even trembling.

"_Je comprende..._ Y' wan' 'er t' be safe, don' y'? Y' really love de _petite friponne_... She'll be okay, _chere_, Pyro won' let notin' happen to her, _je promesse_..." Rogue turned in his arms.

"Ya better be damn sure, Remy, or ya friend won' live ta see tomorrow," she said with a scowl, but it wasn't very intimidating when her makeup was smudged unintentionally in the corners of her eyes. He nodded solemnly.

"Remy sure, _ma belle chere_..." she nodded to indicate that she believed him, breathed a deep, shuddering breath, and stepped away from him, fingers darting to correct the aforementioned smudges so quickly he almost couldn't be sure she'd done so if he didn't know women as well as he did.

"Good... Uh, Remy?" She looked around her.

"Oui, _ma chere_?"

"Why are ya in mah room..?"


	12. Acceptable Excuses

_**DISCLAIMER: I don't own any characters, places or anything else you might see here, all I own is the raw material of the fiction, the rest is just borrowed. **_

**_(To Laceylou76 - girl, you're freakin' amazing and my Remy says ciao and thanks for appraciating his general studliness^^ anon goddess thank you so much for your lovely reviews! Bloodypassion you've been so kind and I really hope you enjoy this chapter! You lot make me proud of what I've written and inspire me to try harder and be better without making me sound like I've been the victim of some sort of pep rally - I hate those, I'd make Pyro grill them if I were ever forced to attend one^^)_**

_**~*****************************************************************~**_

**_~Scarlet Letter ~_**

**_Acceptable Excuses..._**

He shook him by the shoulder, not hard, but insistently, but all he got for his troubles were a few mumbled words of what seemed to be gibberish and half a snore. His own fault for disturbing what was clearly a much-needed afternoon nap.

"... pudding'll burn... bloody... geroff..." He shook him again. This time he was rewarded by one blue eye cracking open slightly, looking straight at him, and apparently deciding it wasn't worth the effort. It closed again.

"John! _Merde, homme_! Get up!" he snapped, standing up and casting about him for something that would have the desired effect. There was a lighter on the floor next to a sock, and he picked it up and flicked it open, putting the tiny flame to the section of orangey hair visible at the edge of the covers. It barely had time to catch before Pyro had sat up, pulled it into his hand, and was holding it like you might hold a small, frightened mammal. His fingers stroked it and Remy could have sworn it purred if that hadn't been completely impossible. The distress had to be getting to him. That was it. Fire didn't purr.

"You're a sick man, makin' 'er rebel agains' me," he said, his voice sounding harsh, and Remy shrugged.

"'M on de run, _mon ami_." John just snuffed the little fire and rolled his eyes.

"Then run," he said flatly, looking pointedly at the door. Remy sat down on the corner of his bed instead, and the Aussie sighed and turned his face to the ceiling in the realisation that he would have to roll out his friend act. Technically, it was no act, he actually cared deeply and wanted Remy to be safe and happy – even if the prospect of him being safe and happy with that Rogue Sheila was a little scary. And that was clearly why he seemed so down, after all, she'd become as much of an obsession to the Cajun as writing was to John himself.

"What do ya wan' from me, mate? Sympathy? Drinking buddy? How are we workin' this?" he asked seriously, and Remy sighed, shaking his head.

"Would ya come an' get in a fight wit me? Fer ol' times sake?" John just looked at him.

"What the 'ell 'appened? And none o' that 'it's nothin' bad' crap, I see righ' through ya. If ya wan' me ta go bang up random people with you it's always bad." The flat tone he employed conjured a guilt-ridden grimace from his friend and he nurtured the spark of satisfaction the voice sent his way.

"Remy got caught again... His ego ain' doin' so great..." John just chuckled.

"Wolverine kick you out again mate? Got caught sniffin' round 'is _little girl_, did we? Y' bloody tosser..." The tone was airy but mocking and Remy made a face at him that was a cross between petulance and the promise of murder.

"Was jus' comfortin' _ma chere_ since y' wen' an' got all friendly wit de _petite friponne_ an' she was so worried y' migh' be plannin' t' kill de damn _femme_ she cried," he said defensively, and John raised an eyebrow. That was actually offensive. Was that what they all thought of him?

"I'm not that unstable." Remy sighed, throwing his hands up in a melodramatic gesture that others just couldn't pull off.

"Dat's what Remy _tol'_ de _femme_! But would she listen? Non! An' den dat Cyclops comes runnin' in yellin' fer de Wolverine an' before Remy knows it _ma chere_ be cryin' again an' Remy be runnin' fer his life because dey tink she cryin' because o' sometin' he did! It's not _fair_!" John had to sympathise with that. He and Remy shared the view that women just were not meant to cry and that anyone who made them so should be sent to hell on an express ticket, no returns available. It was preposterous to enter a room with Remy and a crying woman and draw the conclusion that it was his fault. At least it was if you knew the guy.

"I see how they could make the mistake but didn' they even give you a chance ta explain?" Remy shook his head miserably.

"_Non_... An' now _ma chere_ is under 24 hour surveillance an' dat _petit chat_ is under orders t' keep her company... _Ma Rogue_ will be goin' mad..."

"Well... That Cyclops bloke is an arse an' I don' care fer his Sheila either – smarmy little git and 'is Disney Princess ought ta be relocated to the bloody sun if y' ask me – " Remy nodded, a smile peeking through his misery " – But don' worry, I'm sure we'll work somethin' out so y' can see your Sheila again.

"So will y' come blow off some steam wit' an ole Cajun fer friendship's sake?" Remy's eyes pleaded with him and John heaved a heavy sigh.

"Guess it might make m' feel better seeing as how I never got ta pound that speedy nuisance properly an' I still wan' to... Yeah, fine, let's go. See you outside."

Remy sprang up, a joyous grin on his face and fairly skipped out as John found a pair of jeans and raked a hand through his hair. Cathartic while it would be, he didn't really fancy getting in a bar fight tonight. He'd had such a peaceful morning with Wanda, overdosing on Tetley's, toasting marshmallows over the fire he'd made in the shamefully disused fireplace the living room sported, sticking them on toast, watching Blackadder... Hell, he'd almost forgotten he was supposed to be isolating himself from the rest of the Brotherhood mutants. Not that he wasn't by nature a social person, but because he honestly didn't want to put up with them and after the dissolution of the Acolytes he hadn't been able to go home to Oz without risking being nabbed at the airport and thrown in some dark, dank hole until they deemed him sane enough to be let loose on some poor, hapless group home officials who would then deal with him for the rest of his natural lifespan which he'd have to cut short. Drastically short, if they did that to him. He didn't want to rot in some cell, cold and black and –

"John..? Gambit's downstairs... John?" He looked up to see his door open again and Wanda standing in it, looking at him with concern on her face. She'd dressed since he'd last seen her, and looked if possible even more fetching although he'd always been a fan of worn-out metal T-shirts on a Sheila.

"Yeah – yeah, I know, I'll be down in a minute," he said, too quickly, and she cottoned on to the 'fine' and decided it was bullshit.

"You were talking to yourself," she told him, and he shrugged.

"Mental. That's me." He smiled at her but it didn't reach his eyes, and she took a tentative step into the room, clearly struggling to say something the right way. He knew how that felt.

"I – I don't really know what's... normal, for you – "

"There is no normal and if you just take it from there it'll be a lot easier," he said evasively, picking up his coat and slinging it on in an attempt to ease the leaving process but she was in the way. In so many ways... _Just run, you ponce!_ Shut up, you don't know what it's like – _I know you're making an arse of yaself now run!_ Shut up, shut _up_!

"I – I'm sorry – " she didn't look hurt so much as startled and he shook his head, trying to make the voices go away, knowing that he'd probably told her to shut it out loud.

"No, it's not – I didn' mean you, luv – I'm not all there righ' now an' I really shouldn' be talkin' to ya when I'm not all there. I'll just say something silly an' upset you an' I don' wanna be doing that," he tried to salvage the situation but her face just fell even further.

"You're afraid of me too, then?" she asked quietly, and he stared at her. She didn't mean that, surely?

"Is that the wors' thing I could be? Afraid of y'?" She just looked helpless, and he sighed and smiled at her, genuinely this time.

"No, luv, I'm not afraid of ya." She looked reassured but said,

"But you're afraid of the cold. You said so. You were saying something about cold and dark and things like that..." He shook his head. There was no reason for her to know any of that, no reason at all.

"I'm a pyro, luv. I don' like anythin' cold or dark, it's jus' not me. Y' alrigh', aren't ya?" The question was more an afterthought than anything else, and she just nodded and turned to go. He followed her, closing his door behind him and making his way down the hall to the staircase, when she called after him.

"When will you be home?"

"When I can enter the country withou' bein' arrested," he muttered darkly, but he turned to grin at her.

"I know you'll be bored stiff withou' me but I won't be gone all night. If ya get lonely I'll be flattered!" She laughed and shook her head at him.

"You're supposed to say if I get lonely I should call you," she said disapprovingly and he shrugged.

"If you get that lonely, I wouldn' mind." And he left her there on the landing, opening the front door to a scowling, chain-smoking Cajun who rolled his eyes at him.

"Y' took y' time."

"Didn' take anything."

_**~*****************************************************************~**_

When you were a drunken Aussie with weird hair and a rampant accent accompanied by a Cajun with an equally weird accent and red-and-black eyes out drinking at shitty pubs, finding trouble was hardly difficult. And what should find them but a group of organised anti-mutant activists who had actually gone so far as to clothe themselves in a fashion reminiscent of the neo-nazis and had their own salute. Sad really, John thought to himself as he licked the blood off his lip and glanced over at Remy who was looking smug and rumpled in that _'I am a sexy motherfucker and you wish you'd screwed my hair up like this_' way that he did so well. Yes, the objective had been to perk him up and he seemed perked. Fantastic. Cracking his knuckles, John found himself wondering if Wanda would notice the bruised lip and whether she'd hate him if she knew he'd gone out looking for someone to beat the crap out of for sport to cheer up a mate. Hopefully he'd never have to find out.

_Why do you care? You silly wanker, girl's just as messed up as you and you want nothing to do with her. _

What if I do? he asked the voice, which had remained quiet for most of the actual brawling but was now back in full flow.

_Forget it. The minute that Sheila's memory comes back we're running to the hills and never looking back. Apocalypse won't have a thing on her. Armageddon will be shakin' in his boots. We're leaving the minute she starts remembering just how nasty the dark and the cold is._

"Who the hell asked you?" he said angrily, and Remy looked at him quizzically.

"Quoi?"

"Nothin', never mind... Y' had enough or do ya have any more angst in there ya want ta get rid of?" he snapped, and Remy wisely bowed out. John in a bad mood wasn't ever a good thing, not least because one could never predict the outcome.

"Easy, mon ami, it sounds t' Remy like y're de one wit unresolved issues here... Y' wanna talk about it?" The Cajun was making an effort to be diplomatic and John had to suppress the urge to shout.

"It's nothin' mate. Think I jus' need ta put me feet up fer a while an' ferget the world. You goin' back ta see 'er tonight or..?"

"_Non_... She was not happy – Remy leave it t' de _petit chat_ an' hope t' see 'er around soon." John scoffed at him.

"You'll see 'er whether or not she knows you're there – ya want ta see an' be seen, mate. I know ol' habits die hard but Jesus, you ain' half cracked if ya think she'll fall fer a bloke who spends half his time sneakin' round buildings and jumpin' inta trees when she's around!" Remy shrugged.

"Y' do what y' have t' do when de femme's family hates y'," he said philosophically, and John rolled his eyes and tucked his hands into the pockets of his coat. He knew damn well there was more to all this than Remy was telling him and he hated when so-called friends held back. Hated when anyone held back at all. It was the same as saying 'you don't deserve to know this/I don't think you can deal with this so I won't let you in on it' to him. Like a huge vote of absolutely no confidence in a bloke.

"Fine... Let me know if you need me, yeah?" Remy nodded with a pleasant smile and said,

"Y' do de same, mon ami. Promise Remy y' will. Dem Brotherhood kids give y' grief remy wanna be de firs' one y' call!"

"Only because you hate them about as much as I do mate!" John shouted over his shoulder as he walked away, soon swallowed up by the night and the gloom that spawned in on itself over and over every night in the narrow alleyways of even the nicest city. Remy watched him leave just to make sure he was gone. Something wasn't right at all.

_**~*****************************************************************~**_

"I just don't think she's responsible enough if she can't even keep that Gambit out of our home!" Jean rolled her eyes at her fiancée and set her hands firmly on her hips.

"That was uncalled for, Scott. The guy's the best thief in the world, you think the Institute's security could ever keep him out in a million years? And as for being in Rogue's room, you think she needed your help? If she needed anything she'd have projected and I'd have been one of the first people to know and then I would have gone up there with you. There was no projection. I don't think she was in trouble at all and I certainly don't think he was hurting her. Rogue can take care of herself!" Scott looked at her, his anger fading until it could be folded up and put in a very small place.

"But Jean, she was crying – "

"But nothing Scott. If Rogue was crying that's her business. If she wanted to talk she would. You should know that by now." Her green eyes narrowed as he opened his mouth to protest again, and he hung his head.

"Yes, Jean."

"Good. Now are you done? It's late and I want to get some sleep before session tomorrow." He nodded and flicked off the lights while his telepathic fiancée got into their shared bed and snuggled in, a blissful smile on her face.

_I still think – _

"Scott! We're not discussing this anymore!"

"Yes Jean..."

"Now come to bed."

"Yes Jean..." Complying with her wishes aside, they were happy, weren't they?

"_I'm_ happy," she sighed into his chest, and he grinned cheesily. Then he could be as well.

_**~*****************************************************************~**_


	13. Anger Management

**_DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything here and you should know that by now._**

**_(To Laceylou76 - As my Pyro would say, you're a peach and I'm really glad you're following this the way you are because you're an inspiration. Roguescholar, thank you for letting me know things are meeting with your approval. Anon goddess, thank you for your 'status report reviews' on how I'm doing, like Laceylou76 you are inspiring me to write and making the process so much more enjoyable. Damnedknight, thank you for taking the time to review, I'm glad you like things^^ Bloodypassion, thank you for your joy, it makes things so much more fun and I love that you're so enthusiastic! I hope noone's been forgotten, and I appreciate all your reviews so much I can barely express it. Thank you, all.)_**

_**~*****************************************************************~**_

**_~Scarlet Letter ~_**

**_Anger Management._**

Walking along the gravel of the driveway, John heard a slamming of the door that for some reason made him think instantly of angry women. Drawing nearer where Kitty Pryde was stood sobbing just beyond the porch, he thought _'Well, close enough'. _

"'Ello there, little Sheila," he said as cheerily as he could in an attempt to avoid any sort of shrieking. This failed miserably. The diminutive Valley Girl jumped two feet into the air and made a noise like someone stepping on a hamster.

"Oh my _God_, Pyro, like, stay away from me," she said, a bit of attitude sneaking in between sobs, but then she hiccuped and the threat just fell off the whole performance.

"Alrigh' then, if that's what y' want. Jus' curious ta know why you're out here cryin' your eyes out. Thought Lance took better care of his Kittens," he said casually, making a wide berth around her and walking towards the door.

"What do you mean, _Kittens_, like, _plural_?" He shrugged, not turning back, and she stamped her foot and screeched,

"Pyro, don't you _dare_ walk away from me!" He sighed dramatically and turned to face her, shaking his head.

"Easy now, Katherine, I was only teasin' ya. An' I thought you tol' me ta shift?" She sniffed.

"I've changed my mind. I can change my mind."

"I'm sure you can," he said reasonably, turning away again when she suddenly said,

"Lance is an asshole..."

"It's a bloke thing, don't let it get to ya."

"He told me – he – am I fatter than usual? Seriously!" He turned around and made a show out of looking her up and down.

"Would ya phase me heart outta me chest if I told ya you're as stick-like as ever?" he said sarcastically, and she smiled at him.

"No." He grinned back.

"Then that's the official line we're takin'. For fuck's sake, ya couldn' get any thinner if ya tried. Ya prob'ly jus' misunderstood each other." She crossed her arms and tossed her hair.

"He said I was fatter than usual and I _hate_ him. It's _over_," she said sadly, and he rolled his eyes subtly and said,

"Well then how are ya gonna get that non-existent arse o' yours home, eh?" She bit her lip and shrugged.

"Didn't think that far?"

"No... He usually takes me home or I catch a lift with Rogue but she's not here tonight... Logan and Scott _totally_ had a go at her earlier and she's locked herself in her bathroom and won't come out until they, like, apologise..."

"Seems fair," he mused, then made a gesture that spoke of long years of being put-upon and sorting other people's shit.

"Then we're stealin' his ride an' takin' ya home. Bloke's a nutter if he'll jus' let ya fend fer yerself. After all – there are people like me out at this time o' night. Lord knows what could happen to ya."

"Wanda says you're not so bad..."

"Well, Wanda's a peach, what can y' do? She doesn' know me very well - I jus' give her tea an' keep a low profile," he said in a voice that said he was under-exaggerating like all hell and Kitty giggled.

"You'd seriously take me back? You don't have, like, a _life_ or anything?" He didn't answer, just started heading in the direction of Lance's jeep.

"Comin' or walkin'?"

_**~*****************************************************************~**_

Upon entering the mansion the first person she met was Logan on his way to the kitchen and he sniffed the air before growling,

"You smell of Pyro, Half-Pint. What's that all about?" She just treated him to a disdainful look and said,

"Is Rogue still in the bathroom?" Logan nodded in understanding. The field was lost.

"Point taken." He went on his way and she continued up the stairs, veering off at the last moment to go the opposite way and ended up in front of Kurt's door.

"Kurt? Are you like, in here?" she called, phasing her head through the door, and he looked up from his math homework.

"Come in Kitty... I can't concentrate anyway..." Phasing all the way through and walking over to him, she sighed sympathetically.

"Rogue?" He nodded.

"Scott and Logan really went to town on her, said she was irresponsible and all kinds of things. Jean took care of Scott I think, but Rogue really cares about Logan's opinion and she told us that Gambit wasn't there to hurt anyone and he just came at a bad time when she was already crying. I believe her..." Kitty gave him a quick hug and said,

"It's like everything's falling apart, huh? Lance and me are over – I'll tell you later," she said at the raising of his eyebrows and the concern in his eyes. "Gambit's back and even though Rogue doesn't, like, hate him for what happened back then he's making things worse for her just by being here, and Pyro's moved into the Brotherhood house. Wanda says it's no big deal but I'm just not okay with it even though he did drive me home and he was a perfect gentleman. Said he'd be mean to Lance and not tell him why for me, so he can't be all bad."

"Yeah... What's up with you and Lance breaking up? You're like, the American couple, Uptown Girl and Hood Boy and all that..." Kitty sniffled and tears welled in her eyes and Kurt looked horrified for a moment, bracing himself for the worst when she burst into tears and sobbed,

"He told me I was fat!" Kurt was clearly not expecting this but gave her the hug anyway and Kitty perched on his lap like she always did when she was upset and borrowing Rogue's brother. She'd always wanted a brother like Kurt and secretly she'd been way jealous to find out that Rogue and Kurt were adoptive siblings – something they both took very seriously now that the full extent of their familial dysfunction was common knowledge.

"Awww... Kitty, don't cry... Want me to tell Logan he was mean to you? We could all go and beat him up – it might resolve some tension since he can't catch Gambit and no one's seen Sabretooth in a long time..." Kitty smiled through her tears and wrinkled her nose a little.

"No thanks... I'll be fine... But it's so over between us now and I just – it's so hard to accept..." Kurt patted her back and handed her tissues until she calmed down and then they both went foraging in the kitchen for break-up food. At least he could help one of his pretend-sisters.

_**~*****************************************************************~**_

Rogue was not still in the bathroom. She had crept out after they'd left her room and instead barricaded herself in by pushing the desk in front of her door. Not that it would stop and angry Logan but it would cow Scott. He'd gotten fairly cowardly on the whole since his engagement to Jean, she scoffed internally. Probably trying to stay in her good books – not that it seemed worth it. Everyone – at least the girls – knew that Jean had taken one of those weird pledges to stay a virgin until her wedding night. She even wore a pledge ring whatever the hell that was all about. What, you're having a snog-fest and you're supposed to look at your ring and think no, mustn't go too far now, and then go and have a coffee break? Stupid... Like a sort of self-imposed chastity belt.

She felt tears come into her eyes again at the thought of Scott and Jean's engagement – how excited Jean seemed, how she was already planning the wedding with all the bells and whistles and whatnot. Kitty had even let slip that Jean had started looking at baby names because she and Scott wanted to start a family as soon as possible. It was like Jean's perfection was extending far beyond the natural reaches of her own self and her work. It now touched on Scott and their whole future together, like some sort of fascinating, frightening web of pre-manufactured bliss she was suspending over the whole damn thing, waiting for it to click into place so she could tie it off and enjoy it forever. It wasn't good enough that she was the best and the most beautiful, she was going to have everything, and then some.

Logan and Ororo were fine with Scott and Jean and everything they did, they even grudgingly accepted Kitty and Lance being together, mostly because it had just gone on forever and it wasn't going anywhere soon so they had to just get with it. They didn't mind Kurt and Amanda because that was mutantkind reaching out to the world and asking acceptance – even though Rogue knew Logan would rather see Kurt accepted despite everything and not have to beg for it. He might be furry with a tail, but he was more human than a lot of the people she'd gone to school with over the years. And he was her brother. She wondered where he stood in all this. Did he side with Scott and think it was wrong for her to want to talk to Remy? Did he believe her when she said there was nothing sinister in Remy's mind concerning her whatsoever? Did he feel the way Logan did, that it was too soon to trust someone whose entire life had been a tapestry of lies and deceit and whose character was based on the fact that there wasn't a better thief anywhere in the world?

She knew better than to think he was ever going to be a boy-scout or a do-gooding milksop like Scott or Bobby – the clean-cut American Dream boys who ended up marrying their prom dates and getting the white picket fences and the whole shebang before they were thirty. She wasn't naive enough to think he'd ever 'turn over a new leaf' – a new card perhaps, while hustling poker for stakes higher than any white picket fences ever cost, but that was who he was. A thief and a liar and a damn nice arse in tight jeans and he knew it too. She wasn't expecting anything at all from him – he was here for unknown reasons since that memory she'd dredged up could just as well be some half-arsed, drug-induced haze of 'yes, this seems right just now but it's the morphine's idea, I just nod and smile at the appropriate bits'. She knew full well he could be somewhere far away making bucketloads of cash just flipping cards or sneaking around so the fact that he was here was even weirder since she didn't think there was much call for that in Bayville.

But he'd comforted her when she'd been upset. He'd been a gentleman when she – in a moment of insanity – invited him back to sleep in her room. He'd been at the concert for his own enjoyment, that had surfaced while she was sifting through the baggage of memories he'd given her. The fact of the matter was that he'd never actually harmed her intentionally, even when he'd been exploiting her for her help to save his bastard father, and he'd never lied to her.

She found his lilting Cajun accent comforting, a reminder of the warmth and the diversity of her Southern roots. She found his abilities intrigueing and his control and use of them fascinated her, the fact that he made an artform of the mutations nature had bestowed upon him instead of denying it or trying to hide it. She liked that he was ironically completely open and honest about the fact that he was a professional thief, took pride in the fact that he lied and cheated and stole to suit his purposes because he knew he did it well. And she liked that too – his honest admiration for those who used their gifts and were proud of them no matter what those gifts might be. She liked the way he flirted with everything that might have worn a skirt at some point and a few who possibly never had because she knew as well as he did that it was all bullshit and just another way for him to make life easy. Another game. And both sides always knew it for what it was - and for what it wasn't. He used everything about himself to ease his passage through life – where he could he bent the passage or tricked it into going in a different direction even but he made it so easy for himself by only giving what he had to and judging things by how much was required and how to bypass requirements. Or fool them. He was probably the sort of person they'd allow in a dress-coded restaurant in torn jeans and a leather jacket and he'd have everyone else feeling underdressed. His charm was his strength and his powers were the cast-iron fence around the moat of the fortress wherein he kept the truth. Only the best thief in the world could get to it and he wanted it to stay put. She understood that. She could respect that.

She had no respect for those who pretended their bad sides made them worse people and tried to make out that said faults were really caused by someone else because they were ashamed. It was weak and stupid. Remy LeBeau owned every single one of his flaws and celebrated them like they were his only virtues instead, and you couldn't help but respect that in the end. It was part of his charm, part of what made him so difficult to hate because he was so ready to admit that it was fair enough if you hated him if - you could defend your own mistakes. She thought that was why Scott hated him the way he did. He was living proof that striving after clear, shiny perfection was easily undermined by the achieval of a more satisfying kind by just playing by your strengths and forgetting there are rules. Jean was more forgiving in that. She saw the man Gambit and saw the professional, the calculated way he fought, she acknowledged his talents such as they were and forgave him his lack of loyalty to any cause. Plus she couldn't deny he was better built than Scott. But Scott couldn't complain – he didn't work for it. He didn't work at all. And Rogue knew that anything Remy LeBeau had ever acquired, he'd worked for.

And it was crying on her bed at the injustices around her as well as inside her that she came to the realisation, through all the anger and the hate, that she didn't really need to know why he was there or why he was pursuing her. She just wanted him to keep coming back.

_**~*****************************************************************~**_


	14. Oh, The Finality

**_DISCLAIMER: I own none of this although I really, really wish Pyro and Gambit were mine for obvious reasons. If you can't see the obvious reasons then why are you even reading this??_**

**_(Damnedknight, LadyMageLuna, anon goddess and Laceylou76, thank you so much for your reviews, I was so inspired I couldn't stop writing. You lot give me that extra boost to actually focus on the good things and develop them and for that I cannot thank you enough. For all those of you who are not my fantastic gorgeous reviewers but have put this fiction on Story alert or added me as Favourite Author or Scarlet Letter as Favourite Story, that is naturally very flattering and I appreciate it, but if you took the time to do any of those things, could you perhaps consider giving the author a heads up and just letting a body know why they've apparently churned out something you've deemed worthy of any of those Lists? That would be really helpful. Like I said, reviewing helps me to develop the story and play up the things that make you all want to keep reading.)_**

* * *

**_~Scarlet Letter ~_**

**_Oh, The Finality..._**

_**~*****************************************************************~**_

And Rogue was not alone. In the dusky pink painted room down the hall, a Valley Girl with an aching heart stood in front of the mirror and asked herself why.

In a big, gloomy house downtown a Goth lay curled up in a bed that wasn't hers just so she could imagine there was someone else home.

In the kitchen downstairs a former weather goddess was stirring her own tears into a cookie batter meant to cheer people up.

And in a hotel room somewhere on the other side of Bayville a Cajun prince was thinking of thieving with a heavy heart.

_**~*****************************************************************~**_

It didn't seem fair to him that after everything he had done to earn the right to be near her, things still got in the way. Hadn't he given enough already? Was it so hard to expect a little pay-off for all the shit he'd put himself through to make certain she would never have to go through anything like that again? His bourbon didn't answer for all it looked sympathetic.

_Cyclops_... That lily-livered piece of _shit_. Oh, he knew _all_ about him. Knew about his relationship with that ridiculously snooty telepath Joan something. Knew about his tendency to overlook the fact that sometimes doing something wrong wasn't wrong at all if you did it for the right reasons. Knew about the way _she_ looked at him. He understood that – well, not _understood_ as in he saw how that could be likely, but he saw where she was coming from. He was normal. _Safe_. There'd never be an exciting moment, she'd be able to live in a vacuum of tedium for the rest of her life, an atrophied flower on the arm of a man who didn't know how to water her.

He didn't see why she should turn to him for any other reason – his own vanity didn't allow for that, down that road lay self-doubt and questioning of hard truths and once you went down that road you'd never find the game again. But the normalcy, that he understood. Any woman would want the comfort of knowing her man would come home to her – if only because he didn't have family ties worth his head on a silver platter or state files a mile long on all the things he needed to be arrested for. And the worst that could happen to that mealy-mouthed little boy scout who likely shaved twice a day was getting held up at the grocery store because the receipt didn't match the purchases.

_Bastard_.

But he'd thought that could be worked around. Boy-scout officially off the market, _Telepath Barbie_ busy planning the Big Day, she'd have to accept there was nothing there for her and who should be waiting in the wings but a certain suave Cajun whose self-imposed mission in life was to ensure her every desire was fulfilled? But things didn't go to plan. Why did things _never_ go to plan?! You spent all that time planning and preparing and taking care of anything that might get in the way and **Bam** – something comes out at you like it was just _waiting_ for you to feel secure in the knowledge that it couldn't. So unfair. _So_ unfair...

He'd been so _good_ – he'd worked so _hard_ – and then her stupid family had to go and interfere! Alright, her brother was sort of endearing in a strange, fuzzy, blue kind of way, and that little Kitten was easy enough to get around with a bit of charm and a wink but that – that – _Logan_! Since when was he her father? Unless he was stalking her too, which seemed wrong – _no, we're not stalking, we're observing to ensure her continued happiness_. Yes, yes, the bourbon was right. _Good_ point. He was looking out for her. Logan didn't have to look out for people who were looking out for her, that just made no sense! He knew her mother was rotting somewhere in prison, he'd made sure of that because if there was ever someone who'd be a potential mood-spoiler it was that psychotic bitch. One less thing to worry about. Oh, it wasn't a bad prison, they wouldn't experiment on her and she'd never know who'd drugged her and handed her in, he was far too good for that, but still. Now she was out of his hair and far away from Rogue and that could only be a good thing. And then out of left field, Logan had appointed himself Rogue's father-figure/guardian/avenging angel. That was just a low blow. He couldn't hurt him because Rogue loved him, he couldn't talk to him because he'd get hurt and he damn sure wasn't going to run from it so really his only option was to sneak about and hope to any God available that they didn't get caught chatting too often. Which wasn't going so well.

_At least she doesn't hate you_. Yes, good point, good point. Upside, yes. Definitely not a bad thing, she didn't hate him._ But she doesn't love you either_. No, no, perhaps not, but she would. God damn it she would love him and that was it – there was no question of if, it was when. When she loved him, all would be well. Apples, as John would say in that weird, lovable way he had. He briefly wondered how that was going. Best not to think about it too hard. He could always call if he needed help.

No, he'd make damn sure she loved him. If only he could get close enough to do it...

_**~*****************************************************************~**_

Something large and slimy hit him in the head. It wasn't pleasant and it didn't smell particularly rosy, so he assumed it had to go. With a bang. Setting fire to it however, seemed a bad idea once the illumination showed him it was in fact the littlest Brotherhoodian, Toad.

"Don't kill me, I swear I didn' mean it yo!" he squealed, and John looked at him in astonishment. It really was the most pathetic thing, the grey-skinned mutant squirming and writhing on the gravel trying to beat out the flames licking around his arms and legs, singing his hair, screeching in the most high-pitched voice John had ever heard come out of the mouth of any male since he saw those boy sopranos in church way back when with his Aunty.

"You ambushed me ya silly frog, didn' your mum ever tell you not to throw yaself at people?!" he shouted back, reducing the flames to a tiny lick in his palm which he held more for comfort than any sense of threat. He didn't need his powers to beat Toad to a bloody pulp and he reckoned the other mutant was well aware of it.

"I didn't mean to, Pietro threw me outside, yo! I jus' got back from holiday!" the amphibious stink-bomb on legs defended himself, though the bravado was severely tarnished by the obvious fact that he ws scared shitless.

"What for?"

"What do you mean what for?!"

"Why did he throw you outside if you're so innocent?" Toad went bright red under the scrutiny of the Aussie who raised an accusing eyebrow at him.

"I – uh – I accidentally had some things in my bag I wasn't s'posed to have an' Pietro got a little mad – what do you care?" the furious blush in Toad's salow cheek s and the shifty look in his eye told John all he needed to know.

"Oh hell mate... You didn' have anythin' o' _Wanda's_ did you?" Toad blushed an even brighter shade of magenta and abruptly began talking as though he were a younger, female – or possibly just castrated – version of Pietro.

"_So-what-if-I-did-it's-none-of-your-business-and-you-better-just-not-get-involved-what's-it-to-you-anyway_?!" John regarded him with extreme distaste.

"It's wrong," he said simply, disgust evident in his voice and Toad puffed himself up which just added to the ridicule factor since John towered over him anyway.

"Like you wouldn't do the same thing if you had the chance, yo, don' tell me you don't think she's smokin' hot!" John curled his lip in a way that completely knocked the bluster out of the smaller youth.

"It's theft, it's invasion of privacy, and it's downrigh' disturbin' is what it is! If you really liked the Sheila you wouldn' pull that kinda crap at all no matter how bloody stunnin' she is!" he said angrily, and Toad bowed his head in shame.

"Fred says you live here now... Great..." he mumbled before hopping off dejectedly, and John set a determined course for the house.

Once inside he was met by a restless, infuriated Pietro who snapped his attention to him and demanded,

"Where is that slimy little freak?!"

"Out there somewhere. Just yelled at him for bein' a bloody pervert," John said offhandedly, jerking his thumb at the door, and Pietro nodded with a cold satisfaction on his handsome face.

"Can you believe that twisted asshole stole my sister's – " John held up his hand.

"Seriously mate – she's your sister. Leave it there." Pietro looked at him slyly as he passed to go to his room.

"She's in your bed," he said innocently, and John froze, his hand on the banister.

"Pardon?"

"Yeah – she's been in your room all day. Won't come out."

"Jesus..."

"Yeah. Well. Just tell her Toad's gone and dinner's ready," Pietro said with a suspicious note to his voice, and John rolled his eyes.

"Fine.. Sure..."

_**~*****************************************************************~**_

She was frightened. One of the single most powerful mutants alive, and she was frightened. Barricading herself in John's room had been a last resort to escape the whispering of the shadows and the murmuring of someone just behind her who was never there when she turned around. To begin with she had thought it was something left over from her nightmares – scenes of freezing in the dark, restricted but unable to see why or how, unable to move or speak, flashing needles and people in white lab coats around her during the few moments where there were lights and she could see. A sort of residual paranoia because the dreams were so lifelike, but the longer it went on and the more real they became the harder it was to shake the feeling when she woke up and if she did it would creep up on her during the day, laying over her like a thick grey mantle of helpless, senseless terror that she couldn't explain or rationalise or remove.

She had escaped to John's room because it was warm – how he acomplished that in a house with no central heating and shitty insulation she didn't know – and it was clean. He had his own TV – she expected Gambit was responsible for helping him move in – and she'd been sifting through his interesting DVD collection earlier until she settled on watching Eddie Izzard which she was now wholly addicted to. She'd had no idea there was comedy out there that wasn't actually about black people vs. white people conflict and sex. Interestingly, he also had a good deal of CDs, which she'd left alone out of the understanding that someone who collects CDs instead of downloading would like them to be left alone and likely had their own system for them, like she did. She had no idea of what he'd think of her camping out in his room in reality – she hadn't given it any thought at all when she'd originally made the decision, but the knock on the door was enough to make her curl into a ball around the pillow she was clutching to her midriff and stare at the door in fear.

"Wanda? Luv, are you in here?" his voice was suprisingly gentle and he didn't seem upset. That was good.

"Y – yes, I'm here..." she called faintly, her voice not quite as brave as the rest of her, and she uncurled herself slowly.

"Would ya mind openin the door then?" She sent a trickle of blue sparks toward the door and the lock clicked open, the door swinging in of it's own accord, and he leant in the doorway and looked at her with interest.

"I – I didn't mean to crash in here, it just – " He smiled at her and came in, closing the door behind him.

"You don't have to explain, I don't mind. I don't hide the bodies in my room anyway," he joked, and she smiled shyly, suddenly very aware that she was sitting in his bed wih his pillows and his comforter piled up around her.

"Ya know when I was a kid I made forts when I was feeling down," he said casually, perching on the edge of his bed and looking at her with those unfairly sparkling blue eyes.

"I didn' have anyone else's room ta steal so I built a fort in mine instead... Pretended I was somewhere else, a whole different world... I could spend hours daydreamin' like that. Drove everyone spare!" There was a sympathy in his voice that never touched on patronising and she looked at him solemnly.

"Why did you feel down?" she asked, and she was surprised to see him flinch, just for a second.

"Aw, no reason ta tell you all my stupid kiddy problems luv, I don' even remember what I was glum about half the time!" he laughed, but the joke didn't reach his eyes and she reached out and touched his hand lightly, her fingers brushing against an oval mark that was lighter and smoother than the rest of his skin.

"You can tell me..." she said, and he shifted his hand away from her fingers.

"If you tell me why you locked yourself in my room I'll tell you all about my whiny whingy childhood," he said evenly, and her hands fled into her lap where they twisted into and around eachother, pulling and tugging at the rings she wore.

"This is so – it's so stupid, you won't even believe it – I don't even know why It was such a big deal, I just – " His gaze held her, calm and open and safe in a way she couldn't fathom how she possibly knew, but it was there. And she had to tell him.

"I have... _nightmares_... And they're so real, like they're happening or like memories, I don't know, and – I thought it wuld go away, but they've been getting worse and when I've had them... Sometimes when I wake up I feel like someone's watching me. I hear them, too. I can't hear what they're saying but it's – they whisper to me and I can feel them behind me but there's no one there when I look and – it scares me... I didn't know – today it was really bad, everything in my room was all wrong, faded, and I had to get out so – so I came here... I locked the door and I hid... I feel so stupid, it's just some weird idea, it's nothing, I just needed to get away... I'm sorry, I shouldn't have been in here and I shouldn't have watched your DVDs or messed up your bed – " He shook his head at her words, eyes closing for the longest moment before he reached out and scooped her feverish hands out of her lap and held them still and apart.

"Wanda... First... You can do whatever the hell you wan' in my room. It's yours. Anythin' ya wan' jus' take it, I won't mind, I might not even miss it. Anytime you feel like it, jus' go ahead if that's what it takes. And the dreams... Dreams like that are never jus' something in your head, okay? They're not stupid and there's nothin' wrong with you. Nothin' that makes you feel that bad is 'nothing'. Clear?" She nodded, lips parted and eyes wide and liquid.

"Second... Don' hurt yaself, okay?" he held up her hands and she could see that in her fidgeting she'd scored deep scratches in her pale skin with her long sharp nails.

"Okay..." she breathed, and he released her hands and nodded, looking suddenly very tired.

"Did you hurt yourself?" she asked, pointing vaguely to his face, and he remembered the cut lip.

"No, just an accident. Barely feel it. Remember luv, I'm a terrorist bastard, we're used ta gettin' the shit kicked out of us – and kickin' the shit out of others too for that matter. Don' worry about me." Her face crinkled.

"But you worry about me..?" the way she said it was almost a question. It hiung in the air between them, suffocating and bigger than she perhaps realised.

"Wanda... You're a girl in a house full of total tossers who all happen ta be males between the ages of seventeen to slightly more than that with a brother who's not always there and a cross between a teenage boy and a Toad gunnin' for your affections. Course I'm bloody worried. If only because you risk dyin' o' bloody starvation like this! Do they ever eat anything that isn't pizza or cereal? I mean Jesus Christ!" She giggled at the comical change in his voice, the overdramatising of his hand movements, and he smiled at her.

"Have you even eaten today?" She shook her head.

"I've been in here watching Eddie Izzard and ignoring things that aren't there." He grabbed her hand and pulled her off the bed, gentle for all the energy he displayed.

"Then we're going out for something that won't give you food poisoning – or scurvy," he said, opening the door for her and leaving his room.

"John?" she turned to face him, hand on her own door-knob.

"Yes?"

"Will you find me somewhere that serves evil ducks?" His grin widened and she fairly glowed at him.

"I'll do my best luv."

_**~*****************************************************************~**_


	15. The Dating Police

**_DISCLAIMER: None of the characters or places belong to me, I just manipulate them._**

**_(SilverWolf77, LadyMageLuna and rogue-scholar07, thank you so much for your reviews.)_**

**_~Scarlet Letter ~_**

**_The Dating Police._**

**_~*****************************************************************~_**

Sneaking out wasn't difficult. Sneaking in was actually much harder, which made little sense considering it was an Institute full of hormonally driven teenagers and they needed to keep tabs on their movements. Movements which often had to do with circumventing the curfew rule. But it was probably best not to tell Logan about any of that. He'd take it badly and turn the Institute into a kind of Fort Knox to keep them all in. Wanda's mobile was turned off but she'd left a message and figured that should be it – she might just be in the shower or something and she'd told her that she'd always have a bed there if she needed to get away. It wasn't like the guys would mind. Stealing Scott's car was a no-brainer. She still didn't see why he loved the damn thing so much. It was like a big, flashing neon sign illustrating the fact that he was less than well-endowed and had serious self-esteem issues. Real men had bikes. Fact of life. Didn't Remy ride a bike..? He did, but then, so did Logan. Must be a matter of good taste then.

And so she pulled up to the Brotherhood house and rang the bell, greeted by Freddy who gave her a big smile and a hug. He really was like a sort of teddy-bear. A gigantic, constantly hungry teddy-bear.

"Hey, Rogue! Come in, come in – all the guys are pretty down right now and Wanda's not here but you can crash out if you want," he said jovially, leading her into to kitchen where Lance was slumped over the table with the phone in front of him looking utterly depressed.

"Kitty won't call," Fred said in an undertone, and Rogue looked nonplussed.

"Why? They have some kinda fight?" Lance heaved an enormous sigh and said,

"Kitty left me..." in a tone that made her think of a man who's just been told he has two days to live and his family have perished in a freak accident.

"Why? What'd you do?" He looked up at her, confusion and misery warring for supremacy on his face.

"I just told her she looked hot!" Rogue nodded.

"And?" Lance shrugged.

"And she left! Said she wouldn't hear that from me and that I wasn't one to judge her and shit and I still have no idea what I did!"

"How did ya tell her she looked hot? Maybe y'all said it wrong?" Rogue sat down opposite him and folded her arms over the table. Fred appeared to be making coffee.

"I don't know! I just – I think I asked her if there was something different about her, if she'd done something different and she said no and I said well she looked different than usual and that's it – and she freaked!"

"Well you did something... You must have done something. I'll ask her later. So you guys are over?" Lance nodded, looking suddenly very young and lost.

"Y'all will make up. Buy her somethang pretty. Take her out. Propose. I don't know, whatever it is you guys do. Ya know you're crazy about her," she said indifferently, and Fred handed her coffee.

"Lance can't propose until he gets a job," he said sagely, and Lance shot him a poisonous glare.

"Shut the hell up, Blob!"

"No, Fred, really? Why? Lance, why?" Rogue was intrigued. This could only be juicy.

"Because he wants to give her a good life," Fred explained, and Lance almost launched himself over the table at the larger youth.

"Makes sense I guess... But Lance... Ya know Kitty loves you ta pieces – she'd say yes and it would all work out in the end – "

"Urgh, no it wouldn't! You don't get it! Kitty's like, a princess Rogue – she wants the big-ass wedding and the huge fucking cake and all her friends and family and dresses and churches and shit and there's no way I could give her any of that! Even if I could, what the hell would we do after? Where would we live? What if that stupid registration act passes – we'd never be able to just have a normal life together! I want Kitty to have everything she's always dreamed of and that's just not happening on my kind of salary. I'm broke as shit. I won't do that to her..." Rogue just stared at him.

"Men are such total _morons_..." she muttered, rising and taking her coffee with her and making her way up to Wanda's room leaving behind a confused Lance and a Fred who just nodded in accept.

_**~*****************************************************************~**_

When Wanda and John finally came home the house was quiet and they parted on the landing, Wanda opening her door and turning on the lights to see Rogue in her bed, fast asleep. She gasped at the surprise and backed up two steps, bumping into John whose hand landed on her left shoulder, warm and reassuring.

"Wanda..? You alrigh'?" she nodded slowly, turning to face him.

"It's just Rogue... must have gotten too much for her back there. I'm fine, I'll talk to her in the morning. Goodnight, John..." she smiled at him and he gave her shoulder a light squeeze before letting go and waving to her before closing his own door. She entered her room as quietly as she could and dressed for bed, not wanting to disturb her friend, but when she came back from the bathroom Rogue was up and waiting for her.

"I tried t' call," she started, but Wanda just smiled and got into bed next to her, settling down.

"Talk about it in the morning, okay?" Rogue smiled in relief and lay down next to her, closing her eyes, and sighing. No questions. Perfect.

**_~*****************************************************************~_**

When the girls came down the next morning it was to a kitchen smelling of freshly done bacon and eggs and sounding like an Eighties rock channel. Neither had any problem with either anomaly which was what such a thing was in the brotherhood house. Wanda was in her usual faded T-shirt – Iron Maiden this time - and her little hotpants, and Rogue was wearing her long black nightie. The minute they entered the kitchen, John turned with the frying pan in his hand and did a greatly exaggerated double take.

"Morning John," Wanda said, cheeks peach-tinted, and he winked at her.

"Mornin' Wanda luv. Mornin' Rogue. Now, I thought no makeup and jammies was meant ta be a Sheila's wors' nightmare but this ain' half bad! Very _My Girlfriend's Girlfriend_," he teased, and it took Rogue a minute to cotton on to what he meant.

"_You_ like _Type O Negative_?" she asked incredulously, and Wanda nodded.

"He has all the CDs." Rogue made a noise that suggested it really was impossible to judge a book by it's orange-haired Australian cover and sat down to eat a massive amount of breakfast, which appeared to greatly please the kitchen-savvy pyromaniac.

"So: why did you come round last night?" Wanda asked between mouthfuls of what she had been informed was actually a Full English Breakfast and obviously cooked by a master. The last bit was her own assessment.

"Got fed up with other people runnin' mah lahfe sugah. Gal needs _some_ privacy!" She noticed that John had vanished into thin air and looked around her.

"He been takin' lessons from Gambit?" Wanda shrugged.

"Think he's just like that." Rogue pursed her lips in thought then decided it wasn't worth taking a break from a truly wonderful meal and resumed scoffing it down.

"Ah think they're all lahke that deep down. Ya just gotta dig. Ah sure as hell found that out..." Wanda raised an eyebrow. And Rogue laid down her fork and opened her mouth and the whole stupid tale just came tumbling down the hill, steam-rollering Jacks, Jills and just about everything in it's way. Wanda listened with interest and made no comment until Rogue said,

"... and that's it. Ah don' know what the hell's goin' on Ah jus' had t' get _outta_ there!" Wanda gave her a sympathetic smile and reached over to squeeze her hand.

"Honey – I think it's pretty obvious that Gambit's – sorry, _Remy's_ got a real issue with you. Why else would he risk his life the way he's done?"

"But Ah have no way of checkin' that any of that shit's even true!"

"Call Warren."

"_Warren_? Why'd Ah wanna call Warren? Ah mean, he's a sweetheart an' all but what's that got ta do with anythang?" Wanda's smile grew sly.

"If anyone knows what's going on in the world of the chronically wealthy, it's Warren. Ask him about the stuff that's been stolen, things going missing. Ask about private collectors and all that shit. He'll know. If it turns out all those things really were stolen or sabotaged, you'll know that at least some of what you absorbed from Remy can't be all lies. _Can_ he even lie to you if you absorb him like that?" Rogue bit her lip.

"Ah'm not sure... Ah think if you could, he'd find a way. But he just didn't seem like he was lyin' to me... Ah dunno, Wanda..." Her friend grinned at her.

"Yes you do. You want to know if it's okay to feel this way. So let's find out! You deserve the certainty, you _deserve_ to be sure about this so you know he doesn't have some creepy alterior motive! Weren't you the one who told me you think that he's really just a good person with skewed morals? And I think even you'd be a bit – _damaged_ – if your dad was some kind of massive player in the taking-things-that-don't-belong-to-you industry... Make the call."

_**~*****************************************************************~**_

Unbeknownst to them, in another room, John was making his own call to a certain Cajun who had a good deal of explaining to do.

"_Oui_..?"

"What's this I hear about a search-and-destroy crusade ya wen' on fer a certain stripey-haired Sheila?" John demanded, and there was a groan on the other end.

"How do you know about dat?"

"Sheilas in pyjamas. Answer the question." Remy paused for a moment.

"How much did dese pyjama _femmes_ tell y'?"

"Everythin'. I'm just lookin' for my mate ta back it up so I know how hard ta kick 'im an' where when next I clap eyes on the bastard." Remy winced.

"John, _mon ami_, I had t' go alone. I needed t' do it alone."

"Ya left a mate behind ta go an' slay monsters and have a righ' ol' time so ya could win the princess' heart. Now, I've seen 'er in 'er nightie so I can sympathise. But ya could at least have told me what the hell you were plannin'!"

"_Non_ – y' wouldn' have let me go. Y' would've said it's not our fight an' I would've backed out. I couldn' back out."

"Fer fuck's sake ya dingbat – I wouldn' 've said it wasn't _your_ bloody fight! Personally, I think you won major points ownin' up to 'er about all this crap, but if you'd told me 'John mate, I'm off ta prove myself worthy o' Rogue's love an' I don't want you ta come' I wouldn' 've stopped ya. It's your bloody life ya can do whatever ya want. But if ya don' trust me ta tell me what you're up to, then we're not mates. We're just ex-teammates who get plastered and beat up mutant haters together every once in a while." Remy chuckled on the other end.

"Can y' forgive me f' bein' a fool, John?" John snorted.

"Give over. Beer's on you nex' time." Remy's rich, delighted laughter brought a real smile to his face.

"Y're a good man, John, an' a good friend. Even if dis Cajun's a fool an I shoulda trusted y'."

"'Ere now – all that pretty crap you're talkin' ain' gettin' you nowhere here mate. Save it for you know who. An' ya know the rules – if there's a Sheila involved – specially a pretty one like that – bein' a total arse ain' an issue. Jus' remember ta leave a note next time ya go runnin' round the globe lookin' fer mass-murderin' zombie megalomaniac mutant-lords an' their welcome mats or whatever the fuck you're after."

"_C'est une promesse, mon ami_. Now... why is _ma chere_ in her nightie an' why are you aroun' t' see dat?"

"She's over here with Wanda, Institute got a little crazy for 'er an' she bailed on them. Sensible Sheila if you ask me. I made em breakfast an' listened to them talkin' and decided ta ring you an' swear at you."

"Tink Remy would do de same ting. Look after dem. I don' trust dose boys."

"Like I do? Got it covered. Come round later, she's bound ta still be 'ere."

"Maybe, mon ami. Maybe."

John hung up and stashed his mobile in a pocket before leaving his room again. The girls were laughing downstairs at something and as far as he knew Fred and Lance were in the garage, Toad was asleep and Pietro was off shagging some Sheila called Tabitha or something like that. Oh, the peace to be had!

_**~*****************************************************************~**_

"So... you an' Pyro, huh?"

"There is no 'me and Pyro'. I just live here," Wanda said haughtily and Rogue scoffed.

"Don't give me that shit – ya know as well as Ah do that nothin' an' Ah mean nothin' goes on in this house unless you've given the all-clear. That means you let him live here. Why?"

"He asked nicely, actually showers regularly, doesn't go on and on about Kitty and knows how to cook."

"You didn't know that when you said he could move in," Rogue pointed out and Wanda sighed.

"Well now I do, okay? And he's not such a bad guy. He took Kitty home because she had a big fight with Lance and he took me out to dinner last night."

"Yeah, what was that fight all about anyway?"

"Lance said Kitty looked fatter than usual." Wanda smirked at the way Rogue's jaw dropped.

"What?! Kitty is like the thinnest person alive!"

"Like." Rogue glared at her and she laughed.

"Oh come on, it is a little funny!"

"Not _even_ a little!"

"Fine... But me and John think it's some kind of misunderstanding. Lance would never say that and Kitty's not fat so there's got to be something we're not seeing or they haven't told us here..." Rogue nodded.

"Probably. You and _John_?"

"Shut up." Rogue's smile became serious and she put a hand on Wanda's.

"I just want you to be careful sugah..."

"And I wish you didn't. I don't feel anything for _anyone_ much and I don't know what all that boy-girl stuff's about so don't start on that... I don't know what it's like to be into someone like that so even if I did feel something I wouldn't be able to tell you what it really was. And I don't want to try. I don't want any more complications right now." Rogue nodded, understanding perfectly.

"You shouldn't have to have _any_ complications sugah. Ah'm sorry. Ah won' mention it again. Ah mean, he's kinda cute an' all but Ah don' see him as your type anyway," she teased, and Wanda laughed along with her, but it was a thin laugh and quickly over.

"I'm not sure I'm okay with you and Gambit talking either but I'm not going to tell you not to go there if you want to," she said seriously.

"Thanks honeypie... Ah don' know what Ah'd do if Ah couldn' talk to you..."

"Me too..."

_**~*****************************************************************~**_

Unfortunately, Pietro, speeding from the front door to his room and back outside managed to catch a few snippets of conversation. Things like 'you and Pyro', his sister laughing, and 'he's kinda cute' reached him, and once outside he stopped to take stock of it. Pyro? And... his sister? Surely not! And yet... it could be. They were spending way too much time together. Perhaps Wanda had her eye on him. Or worse, he had his on her. That was unthinkable. It wasn't allowed to be. There wasn't a man in the world good enough for his sister and a pyromaniac with serious violent tendencies and weird hair was the last person on earth he'd want his sister to be into. Toad wasn't in the equation because there was no way any woman would willingly be with Toad, certainly not Wanda, and therefor he was unimportant. The issue of Pyro, however, would have to be addressed. Later. When there wasn't a freakin' gorgeous Tabby in the shower in a hotel across town awaiting his imminent return.

_**~*****************************************************************~**_


	16. New Rules

**_DISCLAIMER: I own none of this._**

**_(Anon goddess you rock big time and I am devoting a big Jonda scene which is in the works to you because you've just been fantastic. LadyMageLuna, thank you, I'm glad you liked it, rogue-scholar07 thank you so much and I'm glad you enjoyed it. Laceylou76, you're wonderful and I am devoting a huge up-and coming Romy scene to you to thank you for all your help!)_**

**_

* * *

_**

**_~Scarlet Letter ~_**

**_New Rules._**

_**~*****************************************************************~**_

"Wanda – "

"What? We're kind of doing something here!" Lance looked past her to where Rogue was sitting on her bed sipping something warm from a black mug and made a mistake.

"It – uh – doesn't _look_ like you're doing anything – "

"Well that shows how much you know doesn't it!" The door was slammed in his face. Wanda operated on a strict 'if it's locked, stay out, if it's open, do whatever' policy. He heard the lock click.

"Wanda – You have to come and deal with this," he whinged through the door, feeling desperate.

"You deal with it!" The muffled reply was aggravated and the edges of the door glowed blue.

"But – " There was a hand on his shoulder and he looked over to see Pyro shifting him out of the way casually before knocking on the door and saying,

"Wanda luv, someone ta see Rogue." There was a silence that spoke volumes.

"Who is it?"

"Friend o' mine." There was more silence.

"Which one? Creed can go to hell, he smells and sheds and I don't want him in the house." John chuckled.

"This one doesn't smell or shed or do much other than pine after your pretty friend there an' flick cards at bottles," he said in a tone that implied the hilarity of the situation was clearly lost on everyone but him. There was a sound of something banging against the wall from within the room and Wanda's voice again, clear and shrill.

"We'll be down in a minute!" John nodded, satisfied, and turned to Lance who was looking at him as though he had three noses. He only had the one shapely specimen so he assumed there was another reason for the look.

"You – how are you doing that?"

"No idea what you're on about mate..." Leaving the befuddled Lance in his wake he went downstairs to join Fred and their newest arrival.

_**~*****************************************************************~**_

"Oh mah Gawd Wanda what am Ah s'posed ta do?" Wanda shrugged and threw the eyeliner her way.

"Talk to him. Isn't that what you wanted?" Rogue caught it and began to apply a fluid line along her upper lashes that ended in an elegant point in the outer corner.

"Yeah, but – can you an' Pyro, lahke, make sure it doesn't get awkward?" Wanda laughed in a way that seemed almost private and Rogue looked at her sideways.

"Pyro is never awkward," she said certainly, and Rogue sighed.

"Ah hope not..."

"Trust me – all that stuff going on in a person makes you good at pretending and deceiving. Gambit does the same thing. They deflect attention from anything potentially awkward and make it look like nothing. Unlike people like Todd who stare humilation right in the face and asks 'Don't I know you? Let's do lunch sometime!'"

"How do you know that?" Wanda shrugged.

"I just know. Purple or red?" She held up two tubes of lipstick and Rogue pointed to the one she preferred.

"Do Ah look alraght sugah?" Wanda rolled her eyes.

"And you claim to not like him... You look fantastic. Let's go and see what he wants, shall we?"

_**~*****************************************************************~**_

"I don' tink dis was a good idea – "

"Get over it or I'm slappin' ya you daft bastard," John said cheerily. Remy just sighed.

"Okay, you just dropped by to make sure I haven't murdered any of 'em yet an' she happens ta be 'ere so ya wan'ed ta what?"

"Apologise." John nodded.

"Good. Oh fer the love o' _God_ would'ya _try_ ta look happier?" Remy gave him a dirty look and plastered on his all-purpose smirk.

"Better, even if ya do look like a righ' perv." Remy scowled at him.

"Whose idea was dis?"

"Does it matter? Look sharp mate, dream girl comin' through." John gave Wanda a smile over Remy's shoulder, and the Cajun turned to say hello to –

"Hey..." John jabbed him discreetly in the ribs and he tore his eyes away from what she was wearing and gave her a grin.

"_Bonjour, ma chere_..." Rogue bit her lip and crossed her arms over the black tank top she was wearing. He had to threaten himself with physical harm to avoid his gaze sliding down over her legs which were encased in a pair of Wanda's skin-tight PVC jeans. She also had no mesh top on over the black cotton tank and apart from that night when he'd stayed over and seen her in her nightie which incidentally was fairly decent, this was probably the raciest he'd ever seen her at. And she was even now covered up within normal limits.

"Rem was jus' poppin' round ta see how I was gettin' on and when he heard you were 'ere he wanted ta ask if you were alrigh'," Pyro said, somehow contriving to make the whole scene seem quite ordinary and not at all tense. Rogue briefly wondered how far that power extended.

"_Oui_, I hope I didn' upset y' _famille_ too much _chere_," Remy said contritely and Rogue shook her head.

"No, no, Ah jus' wanted ta get away from them for a while – they were getting really pushy an' Ah kinda needed ta breathe so Ah decided t' come stay with Wanda until things calm down, ya know?"

"I'm glad she did anyway, I get really bored around here all day," Wanda said with a grimace.

"_Wanda_! How quickly does a Sheila forget! Ya can' be bored when I'm around luv, it ain' possible," John said, pouting convincingly and Rogue bit back giggles.

"Sure I can, you're not at home all the time – you have to run around saving X-Men in distress and going out with Gambit and all sorts of other things!" Wanda defended herself, and John shrugged.

"It's what happens when you're the only responsible adult in the building," he said to Remy, who nodded sympathetically.

"I feel y', mon ami, it sucks."

"Responsible adult? You've got to be kidding!" Rogue laughed incredulously, and John feigned hurt.

"Well we are! Or, Rem is, and it rubs off on me. Sometimes. Maybe..." They all had to laugh at that, and Rogue noticed that Remy's gaze cut to her sneakily before there was a tremor that could only be Lance's doing and shouting from outside.

"What the – " Another tremor shook the building and Wanda stumbled, John catching her by the arm despite having been three steps away when she fell. Fred appeared in the doorway, red-faced and worried, and looked to Wanda who was holding onto Pyro's arm as though certain death was equal to letting go.

"Wanda, we have a problem, we need you," Fred said quickly, and Wanda looked at Rogue and took a deep breath.

"Come on Fred, let's go," she said, unhooking her fingers from John's sleeves and walking briskly out, closely followed by Rogue and the former Acolytes.

_**~*****************************************************************~**_

Backed by Fred and flanked by Rogue, Wanda exited the house to complete chaos. Scott Summers, Logan and Kurt were facing off in the middle of their driveway to Lance who had a cowering Toad next to him. The noise was awful.

"We just want Stripes back, Rocky – "

"Give me back mein schwester!"

"Surrender now and it'll all be over soon!"

"Forget it Summers none of you are coming in – if she wanted to come back she'd come back!"

"She stole my car!"

"Get used to it, it's what chicks do!"

"How would you know, you can't even keep _Kitty_ happy!" The ground sliced open in front of Scott who toppled backwards, barey regaining his balance before he was flat on his arse.

"Lance! Stop it!" Wanda stepped in front of him and put her hand on his shoulder, looking out at the X-Men and back at him.

"They're not worth this." He nodded and pushed past her, growling,

"Get them for me, Wands. Get them good." She nodded and looked at Rogue who was biting clean through her bottom lip and looking as if she'd love to be ordering her own casket right now rather than dealing with this.

"It's okay, Rogue," she said, trying to make it sound as if she knew it would be. Scott had other ideas.

"Rogue! Get over here right now! You've no idea how worried we've been, how irresponsible it was of you to – " A hex bolt landed square in the pompous X-man's chest and lifted him into the air crackling as it shocked him through and although it dissipated after a few seconds his uniform was smoking when he slumped to the ground, coughing hard.

"How _dare_ you come to _my_ home at _this_ hour and stand about outside screaming and shouting so the whole _world_ can hear you?" Wanda yelled, outraged, as Kurt took a step back and Logan held his hands up, sheathing his claws.

"Easy there now Wanda, we just wanted to talk to Rogue – Rocky there was in the way." Wanda made a noise of total scorn and folded her arms under her breasts in a way that should have told Logan to start running.

"I just vant mein schwester to come home, I miss her and I wanted to tell her it's okay with me whatever she does, I understand..." Kurt said sadly, and Wanda rolled her eyes.

"So you come here to lay siege to my house because you want me to hand over my best friend when the only reason she felt she had to seek refuge here in the first place was to get away from your insufferable control? And then you practically attack Lance because he's _'in the way'_ of your supposedly peaceful errand to talk to her? Get a grip. I'm not letting you in. If you wanted to talk to her you could have called or come in plain clothes, knocked on the door like normal people and asked to see her. This is practically a declaration of war. Get out of my driveway before I kill you all." Her tone was pleasant and polite and when she'd spoken her piece it was clear that it took them a minute to register her last comment.

"Now look here, Wanda, we were worried sick when she wasn't here this morning and considering the fact that Gambit's been stalking her and actually been caught in her room twice now surely you can see it's reasonable that wehad to come and look for her?" Scott tried, his hand halfway to his visor. Fred noticed that.

"You shoot at Wanda and I'll squash you," he said angrily, and Wanda smiled at him.

"Thank you Freddy." The big youth flushed at her grateful look and resumed glaring at the offending persons in his driveway who didn't seem to want to back down.

"I was only trying to – "

"Gambit would never hurt Rogue. She's told you, he's told you, the Professor doesn't believe he would, and really the only one who's still banging on about that is you so get over it already! It's pathetic this one-man vendetta you're running just because Gambit bested you and your ego couldn't take the hit!" Rogue was nodding in assent at everything Wanda said and Scott's face was getting increasingly purple.

"And you all know Rogue hangs out over here all the time, she's my best friend. You really think I'd let anything happen to her? Gods you are an arse, Summers. Why don't you just take your car and get the hell out of here before I get angry." He muttered under his breath as he stalked back to the X-van and vanished behind it.

"Logan, I understand that you were worried, but you know that if anything was wrong with Rogue and she needed you or she was over here and I could see she needed to go back home, I'd call you. There was never any reason for you to worry, she's been here all along." Logan sniffed the air.

"I smell Gumbo _and_ Pyro and you tell me my Stripes is _safe_ here?" Rogue flinched as someone laid a partially gloved hand on her arm and said,

"_Oui_, Wolverine. Rogue is always safe wit me."

"And yet you've got your paws all over her!"

"Logan, Rogue and Remy have put all that behind them, they're actually trying to build bridges between our groups – Pyro lives here now and he's behaving himself just fine as well and honestly, you think I'd let anything happen in my house? Please..." Wanda said, and Logan growled.

"I don't want that no good piece of Cajun slime anywhere near my Stripes and that's non-negotiable!"

"You have no say in who comes here and who she talks to so forget it – "

"I don't want _any_ of those assholes in my house and specially not anywhere near my sister!" Pietro, appearing quite suddenly near Logan who looked very, very angry, had entered the discussion, glowing red cheeks and all. He pointed to somwhere just behind Wanda and spat,

"I want you gone, I want you as far away from my sister as is humanly possible you freak and I want it done _today_!" Logan looked at him with raised eyebrows.

"Your sister and _Pyro_?" Pietro nodded as though it pained him and said,

"It has to stop, I know," and Logan gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

"I feel your pain, bub." There was a moment of total silence and then a shrieking bolt of blue impacted with Pietro and he was flung twenty feet back, sliding into the gravel in a noisy way that made everyone think of friction burns.

"You _dare_!" Pietro was lifted up again and flung into a tree. Twice.

"You dare insinuate lies like that you liar, you _liar_!" Wanda screamed, her whole body encased in blue light, her hair lifting with the energy around her as she directed all her anger towards her hapless and now-unconcious brother.

"None of you know what you're talking about, none of you have any right to come here and lie like that, none of you have a clue!" Rogue looked on in total horror.

"Wanda! Sugah, stop it he just got it wrong!" Wanda looked at her with narrowed eyes, teeth tightly clenched as she said,

"It's our life we can do what we like and they have no right to try and control us like this!"

"I just want what's best for Rogue," Kurt said sadly, "I want her to be happy..."

"Then you're a better brother than mine is!"

"Pietro just doesn't understand," Fred said soothingly, and Wanda breathed in deeply and let go of some of the excess energy pulsing around her.

"None of you have any say in who we talk to or where we go or what we do. None of us belong to any of you and if Scott Summers ever comes round here again I'm mailing him back to you in a small envelope." There was a shrill squealing noise from behind the X-van. Logan nodded and looked at Wanda.

"Rogue can stay. But you better be taking care of her or – " Wanda's hands crackled threateningly and blue shoots of energy sparked off them.

"You trust Rogue and she trusts me. That is, if you still trust her at all, which you have every reason to. It's a different game. Different rules. You want to get something good back you have to make an effort and put something good in. Rogue is staying here until you learn to trust your own and judge based on fact instead of feeling. And I told you all to leave _five mi_nutes ago..." an eerie glow was in Wanda's eyes, and the she could feel the pent-up rage inside her screaming to be let loose on these intruders, these wreckers of her peaceful day, her quiet life –

"Luv, douse the sparklers. They're leaving." The quiet voice in her ear brought her back and she saw Kurt wave forlornly at his sister who waved back and smiled before he ported over to her and gave her a big hug, wailing in her ears.

"I miss you so much! I want you to come back! I'll visit you every day!" Rogue hugged him back, repeating over and over,

"It's gonna be fahne Kurt, Ah love you, Ah'll see y'all real soon..." Kurt shot Remy a look that promised bad things.

"You be good to my Roguey or else," he said, sniffling a little, and Remy looked helplessly at Wanda.

"I'll take care of everything Kurt, don't worry. Go home and tell Kitty we want her to come over as soon as she can – why isn't she here? She wouldn't miss this!" Kurt sighed and looked around.

"Ah, he left. Good. She's still crying at home because Lance broke her heart. And she's siding with you guys on this so Scott said she couldn't come. She got _really_ upset..."

"Tell her we want to see her and she's welcome to stay the night if she wants to. We'll deal with Lance... And you too Kurt, you're welcome any time," Wanda said earnestly, and Kurt blushed purple and gave her a hug too.

"Mein schwester has the best friends... You be careful too, okay?" Wanda nodded and smiled and hugged him back and he ported back to the X-van and got in, driving off all the saw of any of them was Kurt's tail waving through the window.

Turning back with the others, Remy's arm snaking syly around Rogue's shaking shoulders as she finished crying over the emotional farewell she and Kurt had shared, Wanda suddenly paused and said,

"Fred? Could you go scrape my brother off that tree please?"

_**~*****************************************************************~**_


	17. Game Plan

**_DISCLAIMER: I own none of this._**

**_(Bianquis, thank you for reviewing, I'm so glad you enjoyed it! rogue-scholar07 thank you! LadyMageLuna, it'll get better I promise. Anon goddess you have been so helpful and inspiring and I really hope you'll continue to review and tell me what you think; I agree, it's not often someone has the same understanding as you and I'm so glad we do because Pyro centrefolds and Brotherhood family goodness will eventually save the world. You make me want to try harder and be better. Laceylou76, girl you're amazing and bloody fantastic and your reviews make me feel like I can write until my fingers bleed and do better than last time because you have faith. Thank you so much.)_**

* * *

**_~Scarlet Letter ~_**

**_Game Plan._**

_**~*****************************************************************~**_

There was complete silence as Wanda and Rogue raised their mugs to their painted lips in unison and took a deep sip.

"Yo, what's with the no-talking thing – " Freddy stifled Toad's question in a meaty fist and waited until the girls raised their faces and eyes to the ceiling and expelled breathy sighs of ecstasy before answering.

"New rule: when the girls are drinking tea, there's no talking." Rogue licked the rim of her mug and made a purring sound.

"Damn right Freddy-boy..." she said languidly, and Wanda blinked twice before adressing the five youths all scattered around the settee on which the girls reclined. Fred had put Pietro upstairs to wake up.

"Okay, here's what's going on – " she shifted a little, moving Pyro's arm so she could drape her own over the armrest without disturbing him too much, although seeing as he was half-sitting half-leaning against it, she could only put his arm somewhere behind her where it came to reside on the backrest instead, so in effect he had one arm partially around her. There was a moment of staring as she got comfortable, seemingly not noticing neither the staring nor that his arm was in such a position as to cause any.

" – Rogue's staying here as long as she wants," she smiled warmly at Rogue who smiled back, a look of female understanding passing between them that only the former Acolyte on the other side of Rogue whose arm actually _was_ around her shoulders, and the pyromaniac slightly above and behind Wanda whom she was basically lying across could see. It mattered little that they were also the only ones in the room capable of interpreting the look which was universal _'Woman'_ for**_ I-got-your-back-girlfriend._** The fact that neither girl was likely to refer to the other as _girlfriend_ notwithstanding.

"And any X-Men are to come to the door in _normal_ clothes and ask _nicely_ if they can come in or they get thrown out. I don't want a big scene, I just want them to leave. Scott Summers isn't even allowed in the garden because he's an arse. If he's seen around here I want to know. Kurt's taking his car back to him later when he comes to visit Rogue and Kurt is allowed to teleport in the house for convenience. Jean Grey isn't allowed in the house even if she is in normal clothes and asks nicely because I don't want her here. Kitty is always welcome no matter what the hell she looks like because we love her and she can be trusted." Lance flinched.

"Remy is always welcome too. I know some of you haven't always gotten along with him, but for my sake, if you could please try?" There was a bout of nodding, some more good-natured about it than others, some downright sullen. But there were no exceptions. She beamed at them all.

"And I just want to say, you guys were just so great out there earlier, backing me up like that thank you so much... I really felt we were a team," Fred smiled hugely.

"We're a family, Wanda," he said as though it were the most natural thing in the world, and Wanda reached out and rubbed his forearm affectionately.

"Thank you Freddy... You guys are the best..." The large mutant looked at her with something akin to pride in his eyes.

"Now, tonight Remy and John are staying in and Remy's cooking because I'm tired of pizza and Rogue hasn't had Jambalaya in ages but we're going out shopping first because there's no food in the house and I need to ask you guys to clean the kitchen so we _can_ cook when we get back... Will you do that for me?" Lance murmured his assent and Toad raised his hand.

"Sweetums, I can't use the soap," he said as though afraid she'd force him to scrub the floors using his tongue as a sponge, and she nodded.

"I know. I want you to vacuum the living room instead because if you get a rash we have to take you to the specialist again and he asked too many questions last time." Toad looked at her in a mixture of relief and disbelief.

"I didn' know you cared, Cuddlebumps..."

"It's too much trouble to bail you out if you get exposed because of a stupid rash. Freddy – can I ask you to keep an eye on things while I'm gone? Make sure Pietro's still breathing and stuff?" Freddy nodded, smiling, and Wanda beamed around at them all.

"Thanks you guys..." They acknowledged their dismissal and left her and Rogue alone in the living room with the two older mutants who didn't stir from their places next to the girls. Wanda was the only one who really moved, and only to face Rogue, tea firmly in hand.

"Wanda, Ah – " Wanda shook her head and sipped her tea.

"No. It's just what we do. This was your family once too, honey. You haven't forgotten how it works, have you?" Rogue gave her another look. The universal look of **'I-love-you-so-much-there-are-no-words-so-here's-some-non-verbal-lovin'**.

"This is still mah family, sugah... Ah don' forget mah family..."

"You're lucky to have one like this," Pyro observed, seemingly the only one who had not registered and fixated on the fact that Wanda had tipped her head back to look at him while he spoke and her head was almost in his lap.

"Y' both are. Pyro ain' got no _famille_ an' Remy's be psychopaths t' _un homme_." The casual way he said it made Rogue snigger.

"Your Daddy sure ain' no posterchile fer good parentin' that's fer damn sure," she giggled, and he shrugged.

"Win some lose some," he admitted, and Wanda stretched and finished her tea, getting up with the aid of a gallant hand from Pyro who was abruptly right in front of her, offering it.

Rogue emulated her, getting up on her own though and looking to Wanda.

"Remind me ta call Kurt an' ask him ta bring me some stuff from home," she said, and Wanda nodded.

"Sure. Kitty invited tonight?" Wanda put on her coat, again with the suddenly present assistance of John who had procured it out of nowhere, and Rogue shrugged.

"Ah wanna dig fer more details an' Ah think Lance knows what he did. We'll ask her ta come tomorrow... Where's mah – "

"_Voila, chere_..." Remy handed it to her with a minor flourish and she blinked and accepted it, draping it over one arm before linking arms with Wanda and walking out of the house ahead of the boys.

"How are we getting to the store?"

"I'll go with Pyro, you go with Remy. Easy enough." Rogue gave her the **I'm-not-sure** look and Wanda squeezed her arm a little.

"Don't worry honey. He'll take care of you or I'll wear his genitals as a hat and he knows it."

"If only that were mah concern," Rogue sighed.

_**~*****************************************************************~**_

He had to wonder if it was having women riding pillion with him that had unhinged Pyro at some point because having Rogue behind him as they rode out for groceries was threatening to drive him permanently insane. But he didn't think Pyro had ever mentioned being in love. Had he? If he had, he hadn't been listening. Perhaps drunk. And it wasn't as if the lack of sanity made the Aussie weirdo any less appealing to the _femmes_, Remy had seen that proved beyond any shadow of doubt and to resounding shock more than once so it couldn't be that. Pyro was most likely just Pyro. But Remy was Remy. And he'd had tens of thousands of women on the back of his bike over the years – well, close enough - and that had never, ever been as unhinging as the feeling of her pressing into his back, her legs curving up around his... He almost drove smack into a lorry which was minding it's own business on the other side of the road, which made Rogue tighten her grip on him and he himself completely forget to feel bad for perhaps having scared her. Oh well.

He could see Pyro and Wanda up ahead and accelerated to catch up, drawing level and tipping two fingers in a salute at the Aussie, who literally shrieked with laughter and made his own gesture at the Cajun – one that also involved two fingers but wasn't nearly as friendly as his own had been and wasn't even native to America. Yes, Pyro was definitely just Pyro. And the weirdest thing was yet to come, as per always when dealing with the unstable mutant. Wanda leant back, curling her legs completely around Pyro's abdomen and curving her back so she was practically lying down, a blissful expression on her face as she howled with delight. He felt Rogue fisting her hands in his T-shirt convulsively, nails digging in, and he knew that she was certainly scared now.

Pyro didn't seem bothered and experience dictated he shouldn't be, Wanda definitely not, but he felt he had to be somewhat bothered by Rogue's obvious fear that something might happen to her friend and signalled to his friend to do something about it. Or rather, he gestured at him and Pyro got it. It was a male thing. Unfortunately, Pyro doing something about it entailed him bending back, looping Wanda's arms around his neck and straightening up again which did not look at all safe and, in all fairness to the way Rogue was clawing at his chest, wasn't. As Remy passed them, Pyro graciously giving up his slight lead in the silent understanding that Rogue couldn't freak out if she couldn't see what there was to freak out about, Rogue once again made use of the female form of communication in that she shot Wanda the **'we-will-discuss-this-later'** look and then tossed her head and settled into Remy again, who couldn't help accelerating just slightly more than was really called for. Thankfully, since she could no longer see the probably illegal antics of her friend, the rest of their ride passed without incident, until they pulled up at the grocery store Wanda had specified, Rogue got off in a spectacular swinging of her legs that nigh stopped his poor Cajun heart and stood cross-armed swinging her helmet from her hand, waiting for the two others to arrive.

Pulling up, Wanda leant into John for the briefest moment before getting off in the second mouth-watering display of leg-swinging in as many minutes the humble grocery store car-park and it's patrons had been treated to, puled off her helmet, tossed her hair, and approached Rogue who linked arms with her and pulled her about ten metres away from the two former Acolytes. John went to stand next to Remy, observing what appeared to be a perfectly civil, friendly conversation between the two Gothic mutants.

"Why?" Remy asked offhandedly, and John chuckled.

"Wanda likes ta shock. An' play with fire." Remy nodded.

"Fair enough. She's got de righ' body for it."

"Go there and you have no dick in five, four, three – "

"Jus' makin' an observation, mon ami." John gave him a serious look he didn't wear very often. Or, Remy assumed he didn't. He certainly hadn't seen it before.

"She's like a child, Rem. She's just a little girl. Her brother – he's a righ' bastard but he's got one thing right. All that shit inside her ain' gonna stay wrapped up forever an' when it starts comin' back she ain' gonna be an 'appy camper. I don' wan' ta get involved. The stunts she pulls aren' her bein' a minx. They're her bein' a child because the memories Jase put in 'er head didn't show her how ta be one. An' the saddest thing is, it sets her apart an' she doesn' know what's makin' 'er differen'."

"Like _ma chere_... Dey're both like dat, _hein_? _Belle et innocent_..." John nodded.

"'Cept one's innocent an' doesn' know it an' one's innocent an' won' admit it ta save 'er life. Bravado an' bluster but one _hell_ of a pretty package..." he let his eyes slide to where the girls were still conversing quietly, for all the world best friends if you missed the way Wanda's toe was tapping her heavy boots hard into the asphalt, and the way Rogue's smile showed too much incisor.

"Not involved, _mon ami_?" John smirked at him.

"Easy mate. I don' wanna be you. One of us 'as ta be the sane one."

The girls turned as one and faced them, smiles clean and real now, bad blood apparently leeched and forgotten.

"C'mon then, don' want them ta close on us do we?" Rogue laughed as she swept past with Wanda and the two guys exchanged knowing looks.

_**~*****************************************************************~**_

"What the hell were ya doin' back there Wanda? Ya coulda been killed!" Wanda kept her voice and body neutral just as Rogue did, but her tone was pure agression.

"Maybe I just wanted to feel and not have to think for a moment, consider that?"

"Well ya sure as hell weren't thinkin' were ya? What, ya think he woulda given a shit if ya, oh Ah dunno, _fell off_ or somethin' equally horrible?" Wanda's eyes narrowed.

"Don't."

"Wanda, ya know Ah'm makin' sense here. Ya gotta be the responsible one here."

"I don't want to be responsible, I want to feel alive."

"And Ah wish Ah knew how ta give you that without you havin' ta die on some road sugah but until we find the way ta do it ya gotta promise ta think before ya pull somethin' lahke that... Remy's probably got Sabretooth-worthy scratches all down him Ah was so shit-scared..." Wanda smiled at her warmly.

"With a little luck he can tell Summers you gave them to him for a different reason. We'd all get a laugh out of that at least!" Rogue had to laugh too and embraced the other Goth.

"Just try and remember – there are other ways to feel..."

"And groceries to buy honey, come on!" They linked arms and walked over to the boys who were chatting about something, John flicking his lighter, the metallic clicking echoing around the concreted outside walls of the store, Remy performing a card trick with one hand without looking at it.

"C'mon then, don' want them ta close on us do we?" Rogue said teasingly as they walked past, Wanda looking back to make sure they followed, not missing the way Remy was checking Rogue out.

"He did it. You owe me," she whispered into Rogue's ear, the flash-fire smile that barely arrived on her friend's face telling her everything she had been afraid she already knew.

_**~*****************************************************************~**_


	18. Half Time

**_DISCLAIMER: I own none of the characters portrayed, I just manipulate them._**

**_(Firstly, to anon goddess for being a peach; you're a peach!! Thank you for everything! Secondly, to Bloodypassion, for being a sweetheart; you're a sweetheart! Thirdly, a big thank you to LadyMageLuna, and Bianquis! Lastly, thank you to damnedknight. If anyone has been forgotten, tip me a message and I'll spread extra make-up love in my next update. Let me know how you like this!)_**

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**_~Scarlet Letter ~_**

**_Half Time._**

_**~*****************************************************************~**_

"Taste dat an' tell me how it is," Remy instructed, holding up a spoon whereupon rested the source of the glorious smells that had been wafting around the house for the past hour since they'd come home. Rogue allowed him to tilt the concoction past her lips and closed her eyes with a groan.

"That is _beautiful_ Remy. Ah ain' had nothin' that good fer so long Ah can' even tell ya _how_ good that is..." The grin on his face was triumphant in more ways than one and he turned back to his cooking with a vain flourish.

"Dat's how we do it down Sout'," he said breezily and she giggled at the pose he had struck, one eyebrow raised as he gazed at his cooking like a mother hen with her chicks.

"Ya really are a man o' many talents, huh Cajun?" he nodded in a superior sort of way and said,

"_Oui, ma belle chere_, but de way y' say it makes me tink y' maybe had doubts, _non_?"

"Maybe not _doubts_... Just... Okay, _some_ doubts..." her fingers laced through her bangs as she rested her hip against the counter and twisted her lips together, inhaling the scent of good Southern cuisine and wondering if they made cigarettes that emulated that scent and taste. Likely not, but it was maybe worth a marketing proposal if she could persuade Remy to cook for some bigwigs...

"_Chere_? Y here wit me?" She shook herself out of her reverie and smiled at him, relaxing before his amused gaze, fingers stilling halfway through combing into a section of her hair.

"Yeah, sure... Jus' thinkin'. We don' even eat this good back at the Institute." He shrugged.

"No one who ain' had _ma_ Tante Mattie t' teach dem t' do dis eats like dis, _chere_..." She smiled.

"Ah bet she's a real firecracker!" Pyro poked his head round the doorframe.

"Where?" Remy rolled his eyes.

"Go back t' what y' were doin' _mon ami_. Empty threats is all y' hearin'." Pyro puffed at a tuft of orangey hair that was brushing the top of his eyelashes.

"Typical wi' you people." And he was gone again.

"What do y'all think they're doin' out there? Ah mean, Ah ain' never seen this place so clean and them bein' so quiet an' all, Ah don' think it's raght..." Rogue asked him, and he chuckled.

"_Les enfants_ be doin' whatever Wanda be sayin' dey need t' do." Rogue giggled. She seemed to be getting into the habit since he'd been back in town and she wasn't sure how she felt about that.

"It seems lahkely." She didn't see the subtle shiver that ran over his well-muscled back at the drawled reply.

"Go tell dem de dinner be ready ma chere, I'll take care of all dis," he said with a wink in her direction, and she allowed herself a bit of a sashay as she left the kitchen. He in turn allowed himself a decent eyeful. Both sides were satisfied, and oblivious.

_**~*****************************************************************~**_

"Here, Rogue, you take him!" A tittering Pyro was shoved at Rogue who staggered back at the light contact, terrified and breathing as if she'd just run ten miles in ten minutes. He stepped back a full six feet and let her have her space, pretending it hadn't happened.

"Ah – why do Ah need ta take you?" Pyro smirked.

"I couldn't stop laughin' at Speedy's war wounds." Rogue grimaced.

"What does he look like?"

"Cross between Sabretooth's scratching post and those road-kill photos they show ya when you get ya bike license ta scare you off the illegal speeding," he mused, looking thoughtful, and Rogue had to laugh full-out.

"Not that they stopped you though," she said dryly, sovering as she recalled his recklessness earlier. He shrugged.

"Ya don' know me very well Sheila, but ya should know I never really bought inta pain as a scare-tactic. Bit poin'less what with my record an' all." She raised an eyebrow.

"Not somethin' ya wanna know before dinner," he clarified, seeing the curiosity in her eyes.

"There is something Ah do wanna know – why do ya call everyone 'Sheila', but not Wanda?" He made an expressive gesture that told her very little.

"Wanda's not you, is she? There's your diff'rence. I'll leave ya to it – they're jus' patchin' up Speedy an' the fun wears off after a bit. I'm off." And he left her standing there with some very mixed feelings, chief among which were annoyance and complete confusion. She opened Pietro's door and entered, having to squeeze past Freddy in the process. Wanda was sitting by her brother, applying antiseptic to his various cuts and lumps. Rogue snickered. The guy really did look like something Sabretooth might have whetted his claws on.

"John, I thought I told you to – Oh, Rogue. Thought it was John back to gloat again. He was having way too much fun over this," Wanda said crossly, a little furrow marring her brow.

"Remy's got dinner fixed downstairs, y'all gotta come down," Rogue choked out past her giggles as Freddy turned and made for the door like it was going to seal tight shut in a matter of seconds unless he hurried.

"Fred! You wait 'til the others come down!" Wanda called after him, and he said something in the affirmative before vanishing. It was Freddy's other mutant power, the ability to completely disappear and reappear in the prescence of the food going.

"'M wanna stay here... mad freak... going..." Pietro mumbled, and Wanda sighed.

"Pietro you're coming. You don't have to eat it if you don't like it but Rogue and remy worked hard over this dinner and you are going to drag your ass downstairs and try, damn you!" she growled, and her brother got up stiffly and attempted to stalk out, which didn't go well. The egg-shaped bruises covering his torso made him too stiff to stalk convincingly. Lance put an arm around his shoulders and led him downstairs and Rogue sniggered.

"Honestly Rogue, you're as bad as John..."

"John had every reason to laugh."

"John always has every reason to laugh. It's called being a maniac. He may be a great guy but Pietro's wounds still weren't that funny..." Wanda's responsible-sister act crumpled as she dissolved into tears of laughter, slumping over Rogue.

"Okay, okay, it was funny, it was funny!"

"It was so much more. We're so takin' pictures once he's asleep!" Nodding between wheezes of laughter, Wanda took Rogue's hand and dragged her downstairs, the mouth-watering scents drifting up to them from the hall and the kitchen overwhlming her sense of dignity as they scooted into the kitchen and took their seats.

_**~*****************************************************************~**_

"Freddy, you're not taking seconds until everyone else is ready!" Fred blushed at the admonition and the sternness of Wanda's gaze and put down the ladle.

"Sorry Wanda."

"Toad if I see that tongue out so help me I will nail it to the wall!"

"Sorry Snookums. I'll be good."

"Lance, don't eat with you mouth open, it's disgusting. I don't need to see the first stages of your digestion."

"Hmmm..."

"So, chere, y' goin' back or are y' stayin' here wit Miss manners an' her happy troupe?" Rogue blushed under Remy's glowing eyes and John sighed loudly.

"No adulation at the dinner table, mates. This ain' good with suger." Wanda nodded.

"I second that."

"Carried."

"Thirded."

"John, there's no such thing..."

"Yes there is. People say there's no such thing as unicorns, but guess who's seen one?"

"You?"

"No, Sabretooth that time we had Jase mess about with him for destroyin' the couch in the rec room when he had Mystique over for a little Pyjama Party sans pyjamas."

"That's gross yo!"

"That's just vile!"

"Get down!" Remy's outburst caught everyone's attention as he leapt up and promptly dived out of the open kitchen window to the tune of,

"Like, Gambit! Get _off_ me!" There was a screeching of chair legs over tiles as Lance left the scene of the crime and the clunk-clunk of boots told them he was running and fast.

"Ah, pardonnement, petite, Remy cannot tell y' how sorry he is," there was motion outside the window.

"Remy? Kitty? Bring her in!" Rogue cried, leaping up and running out to the front door.

"No phasing! No windows! Front door!" Wanda added in a delighted yell, running after Rogue, John slipping out silently to shadow them.

He witnessed a joyful reunion at the front door that was all tears – Kitty's – hugs – Wanda's – and questions – Rogue's.

"Why are ya here sugah?! _Gawd_ Ah missed ya so much!"

"I, like, _needed_ to get out, see you two, you're the only _sane_ people I know right now!"

"Come in honey, come in – is that a bag? Are you staying with us?" Kitty looked at them both very seriously, her mascara slightly smudged.

"I am moving in with you guys."

"Den come in, _ma petite_, dinner's ready an' i Freddy hasn't eaten de lot dere's a plae wit your name on it," Remy said kindly, and she gaped at him. His eyes glowed brightly in the dark around them.

"Thanks, Gamb – I mean, Remy..." Taking Rogue's hand as Wanda relieved her of her luggage – two pieces, both weighing roughly what Stonehenge would weight if hacked into rubble and poured into pink bags with rhinestone tags on that read 'Kitty'.

"Give me theose, luv, go get her in the kitchen. Rocky gave us the slip," John said discreetly, taking them from Wanda and winking at Kitty as they passed him.

"Pyro!"

"'Ello there little Sheila!"

"Freddy, Todd, Kitty's here to see us – Fred you put down that damn ladle!"

_**~*****************************************************************~**_

Kitty was snugly seated between her two best friends licking her spoon clean before she set it down on her plate again and sent Remy a winning smile. Pietro had slunk off to feel sorry for himself but had contrary to his previous vow that he would eat nothing cooked by a mad freak and his psycho accomplice cleaned off two heaped helpings and was at least well-fed.

"You are, like, an _amazing_ cook, Remy," she said with a little flutter of eyelashes and he grinned.

"Dat's awful kind of y' _petite_."

"Now you Sheila's run off and have a chinwag before you all burst and we have ta clean the kitchen again, we'll take over from here," John added, getting up and starting to pile the plates.

"I'll take the leftovers," Freddy said with a big smile at Remy.

"Are you staying as well?"

"Perhaps, _mon ami grande_," Remy said with a grin and a wink for Rogue who was ushering Kitty and Wanda out so they could talk in Wanda's room.

"Ya think those girls have any idea how much shit this is goin' ta mean for us?" John asked sarcastically, and Remy sighed.

"Tink dey know and it don' matter, _mon ami_. _Femmes_... dey de same all over..."

_**~*****************************************************************~**_

Kitty's tears flowed freely as she unpacked the important things and shimmied into her nightie, a pastel pink thing with scalloped edges and a v-neck that Lance had once seen her in at the Institute and said she looked like an angel... She'd been spying on them through the window. The Brotherhood and Rogue and Remy – and Pyro. How Pyro managed to be so invisible and stand out so much at the same time was beyond her but he had seemed so calm and – normal – just like the night he'd driven her home and she'd asked if he had no life... Remy on the other hand stood out on purpose. Everything about him oozed appeal and attraction and that something that just made him so different – and it was all directed towards Rogue, who seemed not to notice the full-bore attention scope on her and when she noticed just the tiniest things would go into fits of awkwardness. Wanda seemed to accept the whole thing as though it were nothing – but Kitty supposed how would she really know? If Rogue didn't admit it maybe Wanda didn't do more than suspect and assume. Kitty could tell though. She knew boys and she knew Rogue and she knew that Remy was acting – for all his suave worldly charm – like the puppy that hopes to be taken for walkies. Kitty could see that Pyro knew, but couldn't place his actions in any of it. Too soon to tell what his motives were, best keep an eye on that. And Lance and Pietro amping up the angst in the little family picture, the sullen teens acting up. Pietro looking like he's been mauled by an angry cat and Lance looking... lost. And empty. She hoped it was because of her, she thought with a sudden spite. Him and his stupid words and his stupid – she took out her anger on her hairbrush as she fluffed out her hair and took out the ponytail, putting the pink bobbles away carefully in the sidepocket she kept for them.

_Wait and see, Kitty, wait and see_... The knock on the bathroom door woke her up and she dried the tears quickly.

"Yeah?"

"You coming out? We got ice cream!" Wanda called, and Kitty put all her toiletries back in their case.

"Coming!" Opening the door she was met by the smiling witch who held up a tray of assorted B&J with spoons stuck in them.

"Great!"

"I know – we went shopping earlier – "

"Suicide mission!"

"_Shopping!_" Wanda said sternly at the Southern screech from her room.

"Now come one, lets go and eat this before it all melts – we don't have a Bobby around." Kitty sniffed and smiled a little.

"Yeah, okay... By the way... Who cleaned the bathroom?"

"The boys did, while I was shopping with Rogue... After this morning I figured it would boost morale." Kitty giggled. Swinging Wanda's door shut after her she breathed for the first time that night. She was glad she'd come.

**____****~*****************************************************************~**


	19. Truth Will Out

**_DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything here, no band names, place names, songs, films, characters or television shows at all. It sucks but it's true so y'all can pack up your suing equipment: I know hopscotch._**

_**(Dearly Beloved, welcome to your promised update, and now, let us give thanks. To my dearest anon goddess, girl, you are something else and if I owned any of this not only would I share with you, there'd be a temple to your praise erected somewhere in Bayville right now - the risqué scene I promised had to be moved up because the chapter was too long!!!! I am so sorry but I will make this up to you. Laceylou76, honey, you rock and you know it, I'm just spreading the news here! Rogue-scholar07, I aim to please. Bloodypassion, you are an angel among reviewers, may you dream of Romy and obtain a Pyro centrefold within the next few days, I'm sending you the vibes necessary. LadyMageLuna, I'm so glad you think so. Bianquis, I am glad I'm giving you something you like and I hope you'll let me know if this is up to the usual standards. Ashmanda LC, you are so sweet and here is the promised update. I hope you all have a wonderful day and that you are all at this moment, healthy happy, and ready for some fiction because here it is!)**_

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**_~Scarlet Letter ~_**

**_Truth Will Out_**

**_~**************************************************************~_**

The t-shirt she was wearing was adorned with a deep green zero across the chest embellished with a horizontal line through it. It draped the contours of her torso as she bent to retrieve something on the floor. Her black satin hotpants slid up at the movement – she didn't bend at the knee when she swiped the CD off the floor at all. Her hair flew around her face as she straightened and turned, an expression of shock painted on it that rearranged itself into a kind of embarrassed pleasure as she tucked a section of hair behind her ear and cocked her hips to the right. Someone should paint that, he thought to himself.

"Ummm, I was just borrowing this – I thought you'd gone out," she said, the words rushing over her scarlet lips, tumbling over themselves.

"I had. I came back." His face was unreadable and his voice sounded strained, but not unpleasant.

"I... you don't mind?" She was blinking too often. He noticed that. She wasn't nervous was she? Well it had been a trying day, he supposed she was entitled to a little nerviness. He smiled and gestured to the mess of his room.

"I told ya luv, anythin' ya take I won' even notice it's gone, don' worry about it. Go do whatever Sheila's do at slumber parties, I gather ya don' get ta do this sort of thing often..." She sighed lightly.

"No... Kitty's usually sleeping in Lance's room and Pietro always needs something or else Toad's trying to peep or some shit and we can't talk because there's always someone listening at the door..."

"Well your brother's incapacitated – brilliant job luv, I have ta say it was beautiful – ole Blobster's downstairs snoozin' away the calories, Slimy's off somewhere having an aneurism because there are too many Sheilas in the 'ouse an' Rocky won' budge outta his room til the little Sheila's gone. Take advantage!" He grinned at her and she suddenly felt so uncertain. She covered it up with her traditional anger.

"You know it's sick how much you enjoyed watching me hurt Pietro," she said roughly, regretting it the second it escaped her and wishing she could take it back. The flash in his eyes made her wish she had just run instead.

"I didn' enjoy it."

"I'm sorry John, I didn't mean it like that, I – "

"You meant it. Don' worry about it. Go and do whatever it was ya were goin' ta do. Have a ball." Her hands reached for him in spite of herself and she flinched at the last moment, the look in his eyes burning into her. It wasn't hatred, it was so much worse. It was disappointment.

"I really didn't – I just – I didn't want to admit that I thought it was funny as well, okay?!" She was yelling now, her eyes narrowed and angry but her shouts were sobbed, as though she wanted to cry and couldn't.

"I'm not supposed to feel that, I'm not supposed to want to hate him like that but I did, I hated him so much it was like he'd done something so awful to me I couldn't bear it and I just – I had to hurt him! I liked hurting him! I even liked that you were laughing earlier, it made me feel better about it and I knew that was wrong, it was all wrong, so I couldn't deal with you being there! Oh Gods, what's wrong with me?" The last bit was a sort of choked whisper and her eyes shimmered with tears as she trembled, looking at him as though he were about to hurt her for the things she'd said.

"Come 'ere..." The arms he folded her into were warm and inviting and she held onto him without a thought for the impropriety, without a thought for anything but that she needed him to understand so he wouldn't hate her, wouldn't think she was crazy or sick or – or anything. She needed him to think well of her. It coursed through her like some sort of drug, calling to her and she wanted it. She wanted him to look at her the way he did, talk to her like she was normal, just a normal girl...

"Wanda... Ya can' blame yaself fer anythin' ya feel – you don't control that! It's not your fault an' ya didn' do anythin' wrong luv, ya have ta believe me... He deserved ta be knocked about fer bein' a bastard. I know ya don' feel righ' fer enjoyin' it an' fer wantin' him ta hurt, but trust me when I tell ya it ain' you who has a problem. It's not your fault..." She looked up at him disbelievingly, expecting to see the lie in his face that she couldn't hear in his voice. All she saw was concern and certainty.

"But I _wanted_ to hurt my own brother, John..."

"We all want things sometimes that we aren' proud of later, luv... If we hated ourselves for it everytime we did, we'd never get a break. You're not the only one who's not proud of the things they want, alrigh'? Don' let it eat you up inside. You're not a bad person - _no matter what you hear_." The fact that he said that and not _'who says something'_ or _'what someone tells you'_ was enough for her. The fingers on her face were gentle and she closed her eyes as he wiped away her tears.

"Trust me luv. I wouldn' lie to ya." She opened her eyes and caught the briefest hint of something in his she couldn't describe better than despair, but she waved the thought away. He didn't despair over anything. He was stronger than that, better than that. He didn't succumb to any of the foolish things that dragged down so many other people she knew, like guilt, or the idea of what was appropriate when, or the notion that you had to fit in to be in. He didn't believe his abilities made him God but he didn't see them as a curse either – he saw them as a gift and his respect for them bordered on reverence. She sometimes wondered if the label of pyromaniac wasn't just an explanation for the symbiotic relationship he enjoyed with his powers – or an excuse for the less conventional aspects of his behaviour. She realised then that she was standing in his arms, leaning heavily against his chest, looking at him as though the world could end around them and they would still remain.

"I do... I know..." she said quietly, almost afraid to admit that she did, because as much as she heard it from others, as much as she'd seen it for herself, she didn't believe he was dangerous – or that he was insane. The acceptance on his face certainly wasn't.

"Thank you." And he let go of her, tucking her hair behind her ear the way he'd done that night – that night she'd felt the burning for the first time...

"Thanks for this," she held up the CD, awkward, waiting for something but not knowing what it was.

"Anytime. Go and have fun luv..." She nodded, smiled quickly, ducked around him and left, closing the door. He waited until he could hear her door open, the girls welcoming her back, and that clicking shut before he turned on his heel and drove his fist into the wall, hard. It wasn't bone he heard cracking...

**_~**************************************************************~_**

She was across the hall, he knew that. Down and across the hall in Wanda's room with the girls, all in their PJ's, smiling and laughing and gossiping. Her favorite scenario. He recalled all the times there had been other girls down and across the hall, and she had been here, with him, the smile on her face belying the fact that she wanted to join them. And every time he had said, go, go and hang out, I'll be right here when you guys are done talking, and she had smiled and shaken her lovely head, silken chestnut locks loose and flowing over her shoulders, and she had always said no, I want to be here. With you.

She wasn't with him now. She never would be again. It was over. And he still didn't know why. He knew it was his fault, that much was fairly obvious from the looks the girls had given him and the probing questions Rogue had asked, but he still didn't know how he had managed it. Maybe it was for the best, anyway. Maybe this was God's way of letting him know that he had been allowed to taste heaven so he'd know what he was going to be missing. Here's the love of your life, the most beautiful girl in the world, you've got about a year and a half to have a go at it and then it's bye bye future and hello lonely life and possible alcoholism. Maybe he should ask Pyro and Gambit how to go about that one, they seemed to have a pretty good handle on it. It was safe now anyway, he knew that once the ice cream was secured the girls wouldn't be leaving their room again until morning, or what was more likely, late noon. With a pang of remembrance of their late noons together, he slipped out of his door and ventured downstairs, a particularly loud giggle from Wanda's room haunting him all the way down the hall.

**_~**************************************************************~_**

She was upstairs, he knew that. It wasn't a hundred miles away but heaven knew it was far enough. He'd wanted to go and watch her from the tree outside Wanda's window but John had put his foot down and called the tree as a no-go. He had grudgingly accepted that they needed to compromise and suggested they eavesdrop outside the door, but Pyro had been surprisingly stubborn about it and had vetoed all of his suggestions for espionage which led to a very pouty Remy slumped over the coffee table awaiting John's imminent return with the booze while he pondered the possibility of going for a bathroom break and peeking through a certain keyhole...

"Gambit? Can I like, talk to you?" He looked up with a scowl on his ruggedly handsome features and was met by slightly less but not without merit handsome features. It warmed the cockles of his ego to know that he and John were not only older and cooler but also vastly more attractive than any of the Brotherhood boys. And since he and John were on the same team and not out to get the same _femme_, he had no problem allowing John a joint spot on the Sexiest Male In The Brotherhood House throne.

"Y sound like de _petit chat_. What do y' want t' talk t' Gambit about?" Lance threw himself into an armchair and sulked.

"You just said it. Kitty. I just don't get how she could get so mad over nothing! I want her back."

"_Je suis desole mon ami_, but as far as Gambit hears dat ship seems t' have sailed," Remy said, not unsympathetically.

"That ship has _sunk_, mate. Smell the bloated week-dead corpses in the water already." Pyro was being blunt as hell, but he was also carrying three large bottles, and Remy cracked a grin that could melt the pants off Margaret Thatcher.

"Ah, John, _mon ami_, are dose f' y' old friend Remy?"

"They are indeed mate. You an' me. What's Rocky mopin' about 'ere for?"

"Troubles wit de _femme_. He asked fer Remy's help." John whistled.

"I thought ya loved the little Sheila mate? What you askin' Remy fer advice about that for?" Remy glared at John, indignant to the last.

"Dat's not de point, de point is he needs t' win back _sa __cœur _an' dat is sometin' Remy can do!"

"Ya can' 'elp a man who doesn' know what he's done wrong," John reasoned, pouring generous shots of something Lance didn't recognise for himself and Remy and lifting his glass to the Cajun, who reciprocated the gesture.

"Cheers, mate."

" _À votre santé_!" They tipped the glasses back and downed whatever it was and Remy grinned at John and waggled his glass in his direction.

"One more fo' de angst?"

"Definitely." Lance looked at them with honest shock on his face while they repeated their previous actions and John filled their glasses again. They turned their attention to him.

"So, y' wan' the little Sheila back, righ'?" Lance nodded, still a little put off by the fact that they were drinking like that. For all his tough-guy attitude, he'd only ever been drunk once and that was on cheap beer with the other guys and none of them had wanted a repeat of the bollocking Wanda had given them for it.

"Yeah, but – "

"First things first. What exactly did ya say to 'er an' why?" Lance blushed.

"This isn't really something I can tell you guys..."

"Was it dirty?" Remy raised his eyebrows and gave Lance a piercing look.

"_Oui_, Remy sees it in your eyes. Y' said sometin' to de _petite_ an' she took it de wrong way."

"Well, yeah, I said something, but I don't get how she could take it that way..." John rolled his eyes.

"Mate, it's gonna be so much easier ta tell ya where ya failed if ya jus' plain come out with whatever it was ya said!" Remy nodded, fixing John with an approving gaze and downing the rest of his shot. John refilled with the glass barely having touched the tabletop again. Lance was starting to feel severely out of his element.

"Okay, I told her..."

**_~**************************************************************~_**

"He asked if I'd put on any weight anywhere!"

"_No_!"

"No! That _bastard_!" Rogue looked quizzically at Wanda. She didn't usually use that word, did she? And she'd had that weird flush in her cheeks ever since she came back from finding that CD. Kitty was flushed too, with righteous anger, and Rogue focused on that.

"I _know_! You can't ask that! It's like, _so_ not the right thing to say! And it was at like, a _really_ bad moment, you have _no_ idea!" Wanda nodded.

"I can guess."

"So you yelled at him, right?"

"Of course I yelled at him! I told him I wasn't putting up with that crap from him and that if he thought I was going to stick around and be insulted he had another thing coming!" Rogue gave her half a hug.

"Good girl sugah, Ah always knew ya had it in ya. Told that hick good, you did. Ah am so proud!" Wanda joined the hug from the other side, leaning in over the ice cream tray.

"_We_ are so proud!" Straightening from the hug, Wanda sat back, but Kitty giggled and pointed to her chest and she looked down. There was a big splatter of ice cream across the front of the zero and she groaned.

"No way! I can't wear this!" Kitty's giggles escalated and Rogue had to join in.

"Go get changed honeypie, we'll be here when ya get back!" Rolling her eyes, Wanda left them to it and exited her room, knowing her laundry would be in the down stairs laundry room drying. Surely there'd be a clean T-shirt down there...

**_~**************************************************************~_**

There was hysterical laughter coming from the living room, layered over angry protests, and she peeked in. Remy and John were collapsed over one another laughing themselves silly and Lance was standing over them making wild gestures and yelling. He couldn't drown out their mirth though, and she couldn't help but laugh a little too, their amusement infectious despite her not knowing what was so funny.

"Is that my Wanda I hear?" John managed between hoots of laughter, and she opened the door, coming into the light. Lance stared at her unashamedly.

"Lance..." she scowled at him, and he shook his head as though to clear it. Remy chuckled.

"What, sorry?"

"Your jaw, _mon ami_, pick it up, _non_?"

"Right, right..." Lance went a nice shade of red that would have gone very prettily with her new corset, she thought, but she didn't comment. There was a lot of alcohol lined up on the table and John wiped the corner of his eye.

"Priceless mate, bloody priceless... Ahoy there luv, come to see what all the fuss is about?" She nodded, looking at the floor. He'd switched his long-sleeved black T-shirt for a sleeveless black beater and she hadn't really noticed how well-muscled his arms were before. She shouldn't be noticing that...

"Uh, no, just – came down for something else and wanted to see what was so funny... I thought maybe Toad had gotten stuck in the bug-zapper again..." John's eyes shone at the thought and Remy nearly drowned in his shot of whiskey.

"He got _stuck_ in the bug-zapper? Oh, _Wanda_... Ya know jus' what ta say to a bloke..." She giggled at his dreamy expression and he snapped back to the present and stood up, taking her by the hand and leading her out on impulse, and she followed him out into the hall.

"What – John, what's – "

"We think we know what Lancey-boy said to the little Sheila to upset 'er an' ya won' believe it but he wasn't actually tellin' 'er she was fat an' we think if she hears him out we can get them back together. I can' stand him mopin' about like this, it's bloody awful," John said excitedly, and she smiled.

"Great! So – so he still loves her and all that? I mean, he's really sorry and he can explain it?"

"With a little help, yesh. Certainly. We'll make sure he can do it, you jus' 'ave ta supply the Sheila. Can y' do it luv?"

"I can do it. I'll tell her something to get her in the living room and then she's not coming out until it's sorted. How long do you need with Lance?" He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"Give us half an' hour luv. We'll sort it." She grinned at him.

"Thank you John," she said and turned to walk away to the laundry room.

"What are ya doin' down here anyway?" he called after her and she turned to face him, pointing to the stain on her T-shirt.

"Had an accident and I needed a clean one... Are you guys drinking in there?"

"Don' worry luv, jus' the ones who can take it," he grinned, and she winked.

"Eighties rock going to be popular tonight?" He winked right back.

"_I wanna love ya but I better not touch..._" he hummed the rest as he retreated back to the living room, leaving her to change her shirt in the laundry room and rejoin her friends. Seemed there'd be scheming tonight after all...

**_~**************************************************************~_**

"Kit, why are ya really here? Ah know y'all better than this. If ya aren' talkin' ta Lance ya wouldn' be caught dead in this place." Kitty twisted a lock of hair around her finger and sighed.

"I like, got into this _big_ fight with Jean and Scott and then I just couldn't take it anymore. Scott said he was going to like, come over here and steal you back and like, knock some _sense_ into you and Jean was like, you can't _do_ that and I agreed with her and then she was like, totally on _my_ back about you leaving and all that so I just,like, _left_." Rogue nodded warily. It seemed likely enough but she wasn't taking any chances. Could be Kitty just wished to punish Lance with her presence.

"Ummm, hey, you guys, I'm back..." Wanda entered in a T-shirt with what appeared to be a grecian warrior on the back holding aloft a severed head. When she turned around Kitty read the words _'Virgin Steele'_ on her chest.

"Like, where do you _get_ all those shirts, Wanda? Some of them are like, totally _creepy_!" Wanda just laughed and fingered the material fondly.

"I have to have the shirts honey. I'm a fan. I'm into the music."

"Uh, yeah, I get _that_, but you couldn't be into bands that don't have CD covers with like, _death_ on them and stuff?" Wanda just shook her head and sat down, crossing her legs.

"Kitty, we can't all be into Jonah Bangers and Mildred Cycles or whatever the hell they call themselves," Rogue said disparagingly, and Kitty bristled.

"Hey! It's _Miley Cyrus_ and _Jonas Brothers_, and I'll have you know I like that song you were playing the other day... What was it called... Pretty – something..."

"Did it go like this..." Rogue hummed a passage and Kitty lit up in a smile, nodding.

"Yeah! Totally like that!" Wanda giggled.

"Kit, that song's called Pretty When You Cry – it's kind of sadistic!"

"But he was like, singing 'I don't wanna hurt you baby'..." Rogue and Wanda cracked up laughing and Kitty pouted.

"Hey! Stop that!"

"Kit, honey, he sings _'I didn't wanna hurt you but you're pretty when you cry...'_" Wanda sang in her throaty voice and Rogue joined in.

"_I didn't really love you baby I didn't really love you_ – "

"_I didn't really love you but I'm pretty when I lie..._" Kitty's face fell.

"Oh... Okay... I totally didn't get that..."

"It's okay – but not everything we like is about death and getting hurt – "

"Or kinky sex," Rogue added, and Wanda rolled her eyes.

"_Or_ kinky sex, thank you Rogue." Kitty just shook her head.

"Whatever... I'll never understand you guys..."

"Oh! That reminds me! We've got the TV in the living room if we want it, we got a new TV," the last was directed at Kitty, who clapped her hands.

"Yay! Can we watch _Love Actually_?" Wanda exchanged glances with Rogue, who mimed being hung.

"Yeah, sure. You got it with you?" Kitty dug around in her bag and pulled it out, and Wanda nodded at it. If this was how they were going to get Kitty to go down there with them then they would do it. She could always dispose of it later without her knowledge. The offensive item didn't belong in the Brotherhood House.

"Wanda – " she shut Rogue up with a meaningful look, and athough Rogue looked at her curiously, she accepted it and they went downstairs with Kitty chattering on about someone called Hugh Grant being like, _so_ sexy, and made popcorn. Kitty went to the bathroom to remove her makeup and Rogue fixed Wanda with the universally acknowledged **_'dish' _**look.

"Remy and Pyro think they know what the hell got into Lance and we need to get her in that room with him so they can talk. The guys are going to tell him how to fix this."

"You seriously think this will work?"

"Rogue, those two _need_ to be together. They're in love. I don't even know what the hell that _is_ – if your mouth is opening to say someone's name it better damn well close right up again!" Rogue closed her mouth obediently.

"Ah agree with ya on the whole Kitty an' Lance thang but do ya think the guys can handle it? Lance is chronically bad at explaining thangs..." Wanda sighed.

"I know. But they said they'd fix it so we have to believe them. Oh crap, here she comes – Kitty, popcorn's done, you got the movie?" Kitty waved it at her and resumed her monologue on the good points of_ Love Actually_ and it's actors while they led her into the livingroom and pushed her in in front of them. She gaped.

"Oh my God you can _so_ totally like, _forget it!_" she squealed, enraged and trying to get away, but Wanda held her in place with a shot of blue and pointed at her sternly.

"You two are going to talk! I am sealing this place up and you are not coming out until you've made up because you two need to be a _couple!_" Kitty glared at her and Rogue and then spun around and glared at Remy and John who flanked a very nervous-looking Lance Alvers.

"You two put her up to this?! I am going to phase your spines right out of you! You just wait until I'm done with you two!" Remy clapped Lance on the shoulder as the other youth gulped, and said,

"She's all yours, _mon ami_," and fled the scene, John saluting him and following Remy closely, Wanda and Rogue backing out slowly and Rogue closing the door for the witch, who encased the room in a shield of blue and then stepped back.

"Now let them deal with this crap," she said, satisfied, and turned to Rogue, but Rogue was off to one side, talking to Remy, or rather, being spoken to, her downcast eyes and fidgeting hands telling Wanda that this could well be a moment for others to talk as well. John put his hand on her shoulder and whispered,

"I say we get going luv, looks like we're not wanted," and she nodded, not understanding why that made her feel like she couldn't breathe but following him upstairs nonetheless.

**_~**************************************************************~_**

"Like, _oh my God_, Lance Alvers, you went along with this set-up? I _cannot_ believe you." She crossed her arms, sticking her nose as high in the air as it would go, and he felt his nerve leave him.

"Kitten, I – "

"Don't call me that you jerk!" She stamped her foot and he couldn't help a private smile. It was one of the things she did when she was upset, like a petulant child.

"You are my Kitten... Kitty, what I said to you, I didn't say it right and that was stupid, that was my fault... Will you hear me out, please? I haven't slept or eaten since you left me, I just want you to give me a chance, hear what I've got to say... I love you, Kitty..." She peeked at him under her bangs as he stepped towards her and said,

"Nuh-uh you don't!" He took another step and put his hand on her cheek, threading his fingers through her hair.

"You know I do, Kitten... I'm in love with you. You're the only one I've ever wanted... Will you hear me out?" She tossed her head away from his hand and glared at him.

"_Fine_!" she snapped, and he sighed. This was the difficult part.

"I know you think I asked you that stupid question because I thought you looked fatter, Kitten... But that isn't why I asked."

"That _is_ why you asked, you asked if I'd put on weight anywhere!" she sobbed, and he smiled weakly.

"You know we were... kinda fooling around at the time?"

"Ugh, like, don't _remind_ me!" She tried to cover up her blush by narrowing her eyes at him again, and he cleared his throat.

"Well... the reason I asked is because... I thought I could feel... Like... That you'd maybe... Put on a little weight in a real _specific_ place – like, say..." he looked pointedly at her chest, which she covered with suddenly frantic hands.

"_Oh!_ I – like, you mean you – " he nodded, chancing a few steps in her direction again and putting on his pleading look.

"I just – I didn't know how to ask if it was true or not so I said it the dumbest way I could possibly have said it and I hurt you... I didn't want to hurt you..." She looked at him with wide eyes.

"You were actually, like, asking if I'd like, gone up a _bra size _or something?" He sighed.

"Pretty much... Kitten, can you forgive me?" She barrelled into his considerable chest, shreiking delight and throwing her arms around his neck. The kiss said it all.

"I _totally_ didn't think, you'd like, _notice_! I have, yes I have and of _course_ I forgive you, you _dumbass_! I love you _so_ much Lance Alvers!" She only ever used his last name in conjunction with his first on two ocassions. One when she was very, very angry, the other when she was...

"God I love you Kitten!"

**_~**************************************************************~_**

"How are you holding that hex from up here?" he asked casually, and she shrugged.

"Practice, concentration – what is he _wearing_?!" She sat bolt upright in his lap and stared at the screen as professional Only Gay In The Village, Daffyd Thomas of Little Britain fame strode into the pub in a highly suspect pink latex number.

"Oh Gods that is so funny! America just doesn't make stuff like this!" she fell back into his lap and got comfy and he nodded, distracted.

"I think you can let go of that hex now, luv..." Wanda looked up at him.

"Why?" He nodded downward and she cocked an ear and then blushed profusely.

"Oh!" she released the hold she had on the hexed livingroom and began to bite her fingers at the first joint, embarrassed. He took her hands and held them still in front of her.

"Don't," was all he said, and she looked back at the screen again, this time seeing nothing, the burning inside her taking away everything but the feeling of his firm chest against her back and his strong hands cradling hers. They seemed so frail in comparison...

**_~**************************************************************~_**

"Wow... looks like y'all taught Rocky ta apologise, huh?" Rogue asked, clearly embarrassed, twirling a section of pure white hair around her finger.

"_Oui_, John taught de _homme_ de rules of **looking** very sorry, Remy taught him de rules of **sounding** very sorry. Looks like we don' make bad teachers..." he smiled slyly and she hit him on the arm, not hard.

"That's mah roommate in there ya perv," she said angrily but when he raised a questioning eyebrow she dissolved into helpless giggles.

"Oh mah _Gawd_, it's so gross Ah can' believe that! Ah don' wanna know! Can we go? Can we leave?" They were in the hall outside the living room and he proferred his arm to her, which she took.

"Righ' dis way, _ma chere_..." They walked out onto the porch, the starry sky twinkling at her as she looked up into the reversed abyss that were the heavens and sighed. The night air kissed along her arms, reminding her through the soft cotton of her nightie that she was only mortal. The warmth of his arm around her waist was a much more poignant reminder though, and she allowed herself to feel it, to enjoy the fact that someone was touching her this way and not flinching or ready to pull back.

"Y' tink I'm a liar, don' y' _chere_?" She looked up at him, his red eyes glowing at her just as the warmth in her chest was glowing, and she shook her head.

"Ah don' know what Ah think. Ah think y'all are a good person who's caught some really bad shit an' y've done what ya could with what ya had... Ah think that's all anyone can ask of anybody..." He smiled at her.

"Y' don' mind de tings I've done, _chere_? Y've seen some of dem, y've been in my head..." She blushed, the niggling memory of him in the hospital fighting it's way to the front of her mind.

"Ah've seen worse... Ah don' think you're a bad guy, Remy. An' Ah think if y' tried, you'd see it too..." He moved to stand behind her. Unconciously she knew it was a way to avoid looking her in the eye but she couldn't ignore that she liked having both of his strong, warm arms around her, encircling her waist like that... It made her feel delicate, protected... Cherished, almost...

"_Chere_?"

"Hmmm?" It dragged her back to the moment. To who was holding her like that. She wondered why he wasn't afraid. He should be. The slightest falter and he'd be absorbed and she'd have him right back in her head again. Not that he'd given her any trouble the last time he'd been in there. No comments, nothing. Surprising really, but then she hadn't made use of her powers since Apocalypse and she had put it down to that.

"Do y' forgive dis fool of a Cajun fer takin' y' back den? Truly forgive? I haven' ever felt righ' abou' dat... I know I shouldn' a' done it. I didn' tink an' I didn' know back den..." His voice was soft, melting aroud her, into her, and she held back a shiver. She wasn't cold.

"Know what?" her breath caught as he tilted his head, the moonlight sparking against the red of his irises.

"Dat I'd miss y', _ma chere_... Dat I'd be tinkin about y' every day, all de time... Dat I'd fallen in love wit' y'..." She pulled away, turning to look at him, fear tempered with exhilaration and lust for confirmation in her heart, welling up inside her until she had to speak.

"**_What?_**"

"I couldn' get pas' it _chere_, I couldn' jus' ferget it an' I knew I never would – I had t' come back for y', I had t' see y' again. I spent all dat time destroyin' dat monster's chances o' makin' a comeback for y' an' even dough I know y' migh' not believe me, I have t' be honest wit' y'... I've lied my way trough life an' dat's all I've known but y' deserve de truth, _chere_... An' I don' tink I can keep it t' myself any longer... I was always so good at keepin' secrets before y' came along..."

"You – you're – you – "

"_Je t'aime, Rogue, de tout mon_ _cœur..."_

* * *


	20. Beautiful And Dangerous

**_DISCLAIMER: Since it's pretty obvious by now that I don't own any of this I'm just going to say that if there's any way you still reckon I do, you're a total and complete imbecile. Good day to you._**

**_(And now, we give thanks: To anon goddess, girl, you are so lovely they should make biscuits in your image. And I am a very serious fan of biscuits. LadyMageLuna, I'm sorry I couldn't give you anything more in the way of clarity than this, but this is a very special brand of clarity, just to make up for things. AshmandaLC you are an absolute star and you deserve so many props I couldn't even steal them all from the local drama class without getting caught. As usual Remy was too busy stalking Rogue to help me so you will have to make do with virtual props and my deepest, sincerest thanks for being such a love and reviewing, I hope you enjoy this. Bloodypassion, Valkyrien said Let There Be Romance, and there was. And it was in French. I hope this makes you happy honeypie because it sure made two very special people whom we all know more than just happy ^^ Laceylou76, girl you continue to be one of my treasured reviewers and for that I cannot thank you enough. I only hope you'll stick with me through this because this was meant to make you a happy girl - let me know if it worked, okay? XD To all of you: You Rock and I salute you with every fibre of my being!)_**

**_

* * *

_**

**_~Scarlet Letter ~_**

**_Beautiful And Dangerous_**

**_~**************************************************************~_**

"You – you're not _serious?_" He nodded, his eyes locked with hers, his face a mask of hope and fear.

"_Corps et âme... Je suis ton, Rogue; mon_ _cœur, ma vie - ils sont ton, en toute éternité..." _Her eyes filled with tears as she shook her head at him, her voice breaking as she said,

"But – ya can' _mean_ that – yah're _lyin'_ – ya can' feel that way abou' _me!_" Her hands went to her face, covering her mouth as she blinked through the tears, but they just kept falling, and she realised that she wasn't wearing gloves, the shaking fingers on her lips pale white skin and not black leather or silk as she was so used to. His arm was still around her waist but he raised his other hand to her face and stroked her white bangs out of her face, the gesture tender and loving, the look in his eyes telling her that he meant every word, that he had been waiting, just as she had been... Waiting to feel...

She felt his fingertips brushing the tears from her cheeks and she closed her eyes, the feather-light touches accompanied by the warm flood of him in her mind, memories and feelings and dreams swirling behind her tightly closed lids as they fell into place, drifting amongst themselves until they fit. His voice was choked with emotion as he breathed in her ear, close enough to brush against her skin, as close as was possible without doing so,

"Can y' feel it, _ma chere...?_" She couldn't speak. It was overwhelming her, the longing imprinted in every second of his memories, every breath, every step heavy and tormented by it – she wanted to ask how long but it flowed into her mind even as she thought it, telling her just exactly how long, that it _was_ exactly this long because he had counted the hours, not the days since the first time he fell into her eyes and knew...

"All dis time... _c'etait tu_..." His thoughts had been all of her that night on the Bayou after their parting, hoping against hope that she had forgiven him, that she did not think badly of him despite all he had done – his father had rambled on about the usefulness of his kind, of what they could achieve if he could ally himself with them. He had asked what Remy's relationship with Rogue was, whether she might consider working for them at his bequest. He had told him to forget it or forfeit his own services. He didn't want them to know anything about her – she was seperate, she was sacred, she was far too good for all of that. He wanted to keep her that way, keep her safe. Jean-Luc had been angry that he flat-out refused to even try and worm his way into their midst, use them the way he had used Remy all his life. He had told Tante Mattie about Rogue. Jean-Luc's digs and comments had stopped and things had gone back to the way they always had been, as though it had never happened. He strongly suspected his Tante had said something to his father but he wouldn't ask. She wouldn't tell him anything even if she had.

"Y' can see, can' y' _ma chere?_" He had begun his insane one-man crusade to prove to himself that he was worthy of another chance with her, of giving himself another chance to see her, speak to her. In his mind, if he could do this one thing for her to ensure her continued safety and peace of mind, then he had won himself the greatest prize of all; he would let himself come back. Everything he had put himself through – all the new scars, all the horrible things he had forced himself to see and do – he had done so that he could feel worthy of seeing her again. She placed her hand over his heart, an image of the branded mark that had seared into his flesh just there after an encounter with one of Apocalypse's 'backdoor guardians' flashing across her mind. He had so many scars, inside and out, and he had devoted each one to her. Suffered these for her. And he didn't regret it.

"_Je t'aime, je n'est mentir pas, ma belle chere, je tu prier... Chere, fais-moi confiance, s'il vous plaît..._" He didn't beg, the Remy in her head never begged – there had never been anything he wanted badly enough to beg for it and relief from pain or such was beneath him to beg for. He had enough pride to rival her own. Remy LeBeau did not beg for anything from anyone, but his eyes were pleading with her now and he was begging her. To believe him. He thought that she could still believe – with all that in her head, everything she now knew, could see completely – that he was lying. That he didn't mean it. The arm encircling her waist tightened convulsively and she opened her mouth to speak, his fingers twining themselves in her hair as he waited, and she knew, she knew how afraid he was. The man who never begged, the man who feared nothing, the man who loved her, waiting for her to speak his sentence. For it would be a sentence no matter what she said.

"I believe you, Remy..." she breathed, and he closed his eyes and tipped his head back, a half-strangled laugh on his lips.

"_Dieu soit bèni!_" he said, more to himself than to her, she knew. She knew everything now. She knew every dirty little secret, she could sift through anything she wanted because he had wished her to be able to. He hadn't held back. She was suddenly aware that he should be a good deal less sprightly considering he had allowed her to take enough to see that much of him.

"How – you touched me twice, Remy... You're still standin'..." it wasn't an accusation, she was stating a fact. He nodded, absentmindedly almost, and she knew that he was just trying to come to terms with the reality that she had not yet pushed him away or rejected him.

"I can handle more dan mos' people _chere_... I ain' like ev'ryone else," he said quietly, and she shook her head.

"Not even Logan can handle me touchin' him lahke that an' he can heal a gunshot to his head in half a minute!" Remy chuckled.

"Y' Wolverine heals up quick sure enough, _ma chere_, but Remy's pretty little lights can do alot mo' dan dat..." He looked partly surprised that she'd asked, and partly surprised that it was an issue. Almost as though it was nothing to him really, perfectly natural. Except they both knew it wasn't.

"Like what..?" Her voice was low and breathless, barely daring to wish that he had some explanation, admit to herself that she wanted him to be able to just touch her, anywhere he wanted, for as long as he wanted...

"I ain' never been tested like I know y' get tested at dat school o' yours, _chere_, but I always preferred field testin' t' de other kind an' I always heal up quicker dan anyone else I know of."

"But that's jus' lahke Logan!"

"Non, _chere_. Y' Logan heals, an' so do I, but I'm quicker an' stronger dan others because of my powers. Dat helps a little too. An' I can decide when and where t' heal if I put m' mind t' it. It's hard as hell but I c'n do it... Haven't been able t' f' so long but looks like it means I can take a little mo' from y' dan anyone else..." She processed all of this. Aspects of his powers meant that he was better able to resist her touch's life-draining side-effects?

"Ya haven't had that power for so long?"

"Las' couple a' months dey been changin'. I can feel it, I use dem fo' ev'rytin' ev'ry day, I felt dem gettin' stronger... I got beaten up pretty bad dat las' ting o' his I destroyed an' I had t' go t' hospital – " she nodded, she knew, that memory where she had thought he was just delusional had been from that stint in the public care system.

"I wasn' s'posed t' survive. I was too far gone an' dey tol' me I was gon' die. I couldn' die, _chere_, I'd won. I could come back t' y'. An' I healed up." She looked at him, seeing the odd look of gratitude on his face.

"I didn' believe I'd done it, I reckoned it was a miracle an' I didn' question it but I've had time t' get t' know this new version o' my powers an'... I really did do it... I guess... I guess dat's why I can touch y', _chere_... Only a little mo' dan ev'ryone else, but it's a start..." She couldn't believe what she was hearing. He loved her. He wanted her. He'd moved heaven and earth for her sake, to prove himself for her – and she could touch him. A little. A little was enough. A little was more than enough.

"That's why ya voice ain' in mah head – jus' your mem'ries..." He nodded, looking suddenly nervous. His hand rested in the crook of her neck. She hadn't noticed he'd donned his gloves again. All that thief training must have paid off...

"_Chere_, I – "

"How long can ya touch me fo'?" He shrugged a little.

"I don' know..."

"Is it enough for you?" His eyes widened as he realised the implications of her question, the real question behind what she had asked, and he took a deep breath.

"When I set out t' prove t' myself dat I was de person y' saw in me I didn' tink I'd ever be able t' touch y', _chere_... Dat was enough. If y' tol' me righ' now y' didn't ever wan' me t' touch y' even de little I could in case it wen' wrong, it would be enough. It don' matter what I can an' can' do wit' y'. It matters dat if y' could.... y'd wan' me t'..."

"Y'all mean that?" He smiled bittersweetly.

"Y' doubtin' me _chere_..?" She shook her head.

"Jus' afraid y'all won' mean it once ya see how much ya gonna have ta put up with, what you're gonna miss..."

"I can' spend another day alone wi'out y', _mon amie de_ _cœur. _I love y'. Y' know I do. I can do anytin' y' wan' me to but I can' leave y' again. It ain' righ' bein' apart from y' _chere_, it's like leavin' my goddamn soul behind. Y' know dat, y' see dat don' y'?" She did. It was true, every word of it. Certainly he found her attractive – divine, the memories told her, eclipsing every other woman on the planet, without comparison, without peers or superiors she stood in a whole new class, unparalelled by any before her or any to come – but that wasn't what he loved her for alone. He loved her strengths and her weaknesses, her moods and her beliefs, her principles, her morals and her loves, her passions. He loved the very essence of her, who she was at the core, and she was shocked at how much of her he understood and how deep that understanding went.

"I know y' migh' not wan' t' accept dis like dis, righ' off, but – "

"Kiss me, Remy." There was no conviction in her voice but there surely was in her eyes. He lowered his lips to hers and brushed against them gently. She felt no pull, just a flow of emotion from him, love, hope, terror that she'd change her mind and leave him there, reject him... He pulled away, his breathing harsh and irregular, and she was instantly concerned.

"Did Ah hurt you?" He shook his head, caressing her cheek softly.

"It's not ev'ryday I get t' kiss de woman I love fo' de firs' time, _chere_..."

"It's not the firs' tahme..."

"It is. It's only de firs' time when y' willin', _chere_. Not when ya bein' controlled by some sadistic bitch an' her ass-lickers," he said firmly, and she bit her lip.

"Is it everyday ya get ta kiss the woman of yer dreams for the second tahme?" His eyes glowed a bright, warm red and she thought that Wanda was right... it was the most beautiful colour in the world...

**_~**************************************************************~_**

Kitty and Lance had retired to his room, it seemed, while Remy and Rogue had been out all night on the porch, talking, and Wanda had fallen asleep in John's room with the TV running, head cushioned on his chest and his arms loosely draped over her. That was how she woke up, too. Slipping out of them, she crept out of the room as silently as she could manage and crossed the hall to her own, rubbing a hand through her birdsnest of a hair do and looking in the mirror. She hadn't looked this rough since she'd come down with the flu and had to deal with all the boys acting like she was at death's door and they might as well go into mourning early.

Getting a towel from her closet – she had to have her own stash or else the guys would use them, Toad just stealing them for some weird reason that Pietro just told her not to wory her head about and let him sort for her – she padded out to the bathroom and ran the taps to get the water heated. She usually did just let Pietro sort those things. It was so much easier that way and it made him feel like a good brother. Not that he wasn't or anything, but he liked to prove it every once in a while. She didn't bother to lock the door, no one would be up at this hour, the clock had read five past eight in her room, and she pulled off her Tshirt and the little pants she favoured for bed and put her hand under the water. It was warm enough for her so she stepped into the tub and under it and let it wash away her fatigue. For some reason bathing always felt special to her. She never knew quite why it should, it was a fairly normal part of everyday life, but for her it always felt like a privelege that she could stand under the hot stream of water for as long as she liked without having to worry about anything, nothing limiting the time she could spend on it. If the hot water ran out her powers were well capable of restoring it to it's former scalding glory so she never even had to worry about that. She smoothed back the hair from her face and tipped her head into the water, luxuriating in the feeling of it battering the porcelain skin of her cheeks, smoothing over her body on the way down her, heat soaking through tired muscles and cold bones. She was always cold. Pietro worried about that, she knew. Apparently it could be a sign of poor circulation and that put you at risk of some disease or other but she didn't really care. It was a touch annoying but apart fom that it was easy to deal with. Just wearing her coat and a pair of gloves sorted it right out.

She didn't register the sound of the door opening, or the sound of the sink taps running, but she felt the ebb in the temperature of her shower and frowned a little, turning her face away from the stream and blinking the droplets from her eyelashes before parting the curtains to give someone a piece of her mind.

"Look, someone is _trying_ to take a shower here, so – " she hadn't been ready for shocked, familiar blue eyes staring right back at her, or the tousled bright orange hair that seemed to shine in the faint gloom of the bathroom of it's own accord. She hadn't been prepared for the sudden vast expanses of visible, finely toned muscle that apparently was not limited to only the chest area but was in fact part of a well-trained whole that completely threw her. She certainly had not been prepared for all this wearing only black boxers and standing _that_ close to her while she was in the... _shower_... with only a thin opaque plastic curtain and the edge of the bathtub seperating them. She licked her lips and tried not to stare, tried to speak, tried to do something, anything that would diffuse the situation, but she couldn't move and she couldn't speak and she was burning all over, burning inside, and her hands slipped on the slick plastic surface of the curtain and...

**_~**************************************************************~_**

He hadn't known she was in there, he hadn't known anyone was in there until he himself was and then he hadn't even thought of the possibility that it might be one of the girls, much less her. All that time spent living with other men had clearly not been healthy if it could make him forget that there were Sheila's all over the house today and knocking was likely a good idea no matter where you went. But somehow he knew it wouldn't have mattered if it had been one of the others. He would have turned right around, apologised, cursed, and left like the Devil himself was after his blood. But it wasn't one of the other Sheila's. It was her. Standing there with the annoyance in her eyes fading to complete shock and something else, something he didn't want to see because he wanted it to be there too badly and to admit that was to admit defeat, admit his weakness. It was her stood there with her hair dripping around that gorgeous face, lips curved into a perfect O, unmoving, unblinking, fingers loosening their grip on the only lifeline his tortured conscience had left – the edges of the shower curtain. And it was more than any man could stand.

**_~**************************************************************~_**

She didn't know if it was her who reached for him first or the other way around, she only knew that all of a sudden her fingers were twisting themselves into his vividly orange hair and her mouth was pressed against his, lips shaping themselves to the contours of his as though they'd never done anything else a day of her life and he was reciprocating, letting her run the very tip of her tongue along his lower lip as his arm snaked around her waist and his other hand slid up her side to cup her face and she shivered as his fingers raked through her hair. They were closer than close now, skin on skin, tongues twisting around each other in a slow, passionate dance older than time itself that only made the aching burn inside her worse. His skin was hotter beneath her hands than the water still running over her lower back and she arched into him, beyond pleased that he only held her tighter and lifted his mouth from hers to trail kisses down the side of her neck. Every inch of her felt neglected and sated at the same time and she sighed and dug her fingers into the hard muscle of his back, wanting it, wanting to feel it. She'd never felt anything as intense, as real as this before in her life – everything else was so grey and hazy and _un_real in comparison. Nothing had ever made her feel as alive as the way his lips grazed over the skin just below her collarbone, the way they were so close that she didn't know whose heart she could feel beating, didn't know what this was other than that it was _life_, had to be, how else could it feel so completely, heartbreakingly _right_...

The cry that came from the doorway sounded like someone's heart broke too...

* * *


	21. Help Wanted

**_DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, get off my back._**

**_(anon goddess, you are freakin' amazing, thank you for being there through this with me - not that this is the end, oh no, I just wanted to thank you^^ LadyMageLuna, Titansrule, cougarrose and roguescholar-07, you guys are so fantastic for reviewing thank you so much and I hope you will review as per usual and let me know how this was for you! Bloodypassion honey you rock big time and it makes me want to do better for you! Laceylou76 you are gorgeous girl and I really really hope this counts as 'delivering for you' like I promised! Let me know, okay? AshmandaLC, you deserve so many thanks for your lovely reviews you make me want to do better and write faster! ArtistaBianKa, let me know if this was good honey because Gods know you deserve the best! And now - I leave you to it!)_**

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_**

**_~Scarlet Letter ~_**

**_Help Wanted..._**

**_~*************************************************************************~_**

She was nuzzled into him exactly like her namesake, although not purring, just giggling a little as he played with her hair and hugged her close to him.

"La-aance," she said, her voice a trilling sing-song, and he kissed her forehead and said,

"Kitty-cat?" She giggled again, kissing him properly.

"You're like, so stupid, you know that?" He just shrugged and kissed her again, willing to admit that he wasn't the brightest crayon in the box as long as it made her happy. A thought occurred to him.

"Hey, how come this is okay with Wolverine and that crowd?"

"It's not. Wanda like, told them I'd be staying with her and Rogue, because this is totally not okay with Mr. Logan if he like, _ever_ finds out." He looked at her seriously.

"I think he has a pretty good idea of what we get up to, Kitten. The guy's not an idiot." She rolled her eyes.

"Like, I know? It was totally his idea for me to come here and check up on Rogue and Wanda – he like, won't admit it but he's freaked out that she like, doesn't hate Remy after all, and he's pretty worried for Wanda too now that you guys live with Pyro. He knew we were fighting so he asked me to like, come and make sure they stayed away from them."

"He didn't think you and I would get back together?"

"I don't think he was counting on the guys like, ganging up on us both and _making_ us get back together!" she laughed, and he furrowed his brow.

"I already wanted you back, Kitty, they just helped me get in the same room as you to work it out – you're okay about all this now, right?" She smiled a secretive smile at him and kissed his nose.

"I am _totally_ okay with us right now – in fact, I need you to do something with me..."

"What?"

"Come underwear-shopping later..?" Their smiled blended into one and the same as their lips met again but they were interrupted in their joy by a shivering, stuttering wreck of a Pietro who came hurtling in through the door wearing only red silk boxers, sobbing and clearly very distressed. Lance felt the adrenaline rush hit him. Something bad had clearly happened. Detaching himself from Kitty who pulled the sheets over her and sat up with a cry of surprise, he swung himself out of bed and – glad he was also wearing boxers – adressed Pietro.

"What's going on? What the hell is happening?" he demanded, Pietro just shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut, his hands pushing through his usually well-groomed silver hair making it stand on end in a way that did not become him.

"She's – in the shower, in the bathroom – " he managed, and Lance moved his gaze to Kitty who was looking severely alarmed.

"Kitty, you stay here," he told her, and she nodded twice, watching her boyfriend run out his door to deal with whatever was going on that had rattled Quicksilver so badly. She had to admit, he looked quite the hunk rushing off like that to handle danger in only tight black boxers. Pietro, on the other hand, did not fare so well. He looked as though his nerves were about to give out completely and his upper body was still riddled with injuries from his sister's wrathful beating. She felt a sudden pang of true fear. She knew Pietro was a coward at heart where most things were concerned, but if something had shaken him this badly and Lance was off to face it all on his own it had to be something awful. And Lance had no back-up... Leaping out of bed she tore off after him, ignoring the fact that she was currently dressed in a skimpy little thing that barely qualified as a negligée, bent on helping her man. It would afterwards be mused upon that it was in fact that innate sense of brewing scandal and juicy gossip that had driven her from their reconciliatory bed rather than fear of Lance being alone in the face of danger, but she firmly denied it ever after.

**_~**************************************************************~_**

Normally, rushing into battle with no knowledge of your opponent and no pants was not a good idea, but in this case Lance Alvers was feeling that primal urge every man whose home and woman are under threat feels: the urge to protect at any cost. And it didn't allow for fear. Or pants, for that matter. And so, the last thing he expected to be faced with as he bore down on the bathroom door, the battle-lust pumping through his veins, was a towel-wrapped Wanda – albeit a towel-wrapped Wanda who appeared well and truly livid at being walked in on. This conveyed itself in the violent hex thrown at him the moment he burst through the door that smashed him into the wall opposite and caused tiny chunks of plaster to rain down upon him from the ceiling and the inarticulate scream accompanying it.

"Can't – I – get – any – privacy?!" she shrieked, Kitty arriving on the scene rushing to Lance's side and cradling his head against her bosom, checking him over for injury while Rogue and Remy came tearing up the stairs hand-in-hand, Remy slightly in front of her as though ready to sweep her out of harms way and John entering the picture from the other side, also only in a pair of black boxers.

"Like, oh my _God_ Lance, I was _so_ worried are you like, okay baby?" Kitty cooed as she kissed him and fussed over him, Remy casting an eye over the scene; the boxer-clad males of the Brotherhood House coming out of their rooms, Freddy thankfully also wearing a T-shirt but with a murderous look in his eye, Toad sadly wearing just the shorts, both looking confused but transfixed by the furious Wanda who stood in the door of the bathroom, screeching her fury to the skies.

"_Chere_, I feel overdressed fo' de occasion," he remarked in an undertone to Rogue, who smothered a giggle in favour of nodding. He was indeed the only male present who was wearing pants. Granted, they were the same ones he'd been wearing yesterday since they'd been cuddling on the porch all night long and were now woefully overtired and punch-drunk on moonlight and love, but still. They were nice pants. Lance had righted himself but was leaning slightly on Kitty who was soaking up every moment like some sort of surreal gossip-sponge.

"Wanda – I – I'm sorry, your brother said – "

"_They were having _**_sex_**_ in the shower!_" Pietro's shrill accusation came from the end of the hall and everyone just stared at him, nonplussed. Except Toad, who stared at Wanda, who was speechless with rage but still only wearing a towel. Freddy noticed this and smacked him upside the head. The cross-eyed Toad turned his attention reluctantly to Pietro.

"Who was doing what?" Rogue asked, confused, and Remy caught the look that John shot the livid Scarlet Witch. There were secrets in that look.

"_**HIM**, that **FREAK** and my **SISTER**!!_" Pietro shouted, pointing to John as though he were Satan himself, and Rogue just looked at him, stunned.

"Seriously?" Toad launched himself at John, yelling obscenities, and the Australian smacked him to the floor faster than Pietro could have done in his current state without moving his eyes from Wanda. Toad didn't stir again.

"Wanda wouldn't do that," Fred said sensibly, and Rogue nodded.

"Ah'm with Freddy on this one, y'all are outta yo' minds if ya think Ah'm buyin' that other crap," she snorted, and Kitty nodded emphatically, stroking Lance's shoulder.

"I like, totally think it's his concussion talking, maybe we should, like, take him to see a doctor – delusions after a head injury are a bad sign, Dr McCoy always says so!" John's eyes stayed locked on Wanda, who seemed to be waiting for just the tiniest upset in the balance of the situation to let loose her considerable displeasure at having been disturbed for nothing. Except Remy could see the truth in John's eyes. And pleased though he was for his friend, the moment was volatile enough without him going over there for some guy-to-guy back-slapping and game-talk.

"_I SAW THEM! HE WAS ALL OVER MY SISTER AND SHE WAS IN THE SHOWER – **NAKED**!_" Freddy shook his head and stepped in front of Wanda, giving her an understanding smile.

"It's okay, I'll go put him to bed again and we'll take him to the doctor's later, better go dry your hair now so you don't get cold," he said kindly, and Wanda nodded slowly, like someone in a trance waking up. Freddy picked up the exhausted Pietro and stuffed him under his arm like an overgrown, if spindly, teddy bear and carried him off, ignoring both the kicking and the screaming like it wasn't even there.

Kitty took a firm grip on Lance's arm and started to lead him away past Wanda, smiling at the other girl apologetically.

"We are like, so sorry for that girl, but Lance really thought something had like, happened because Pietro was all crazy and he had to go check it out – we're _really_ sorry, you should go dry off like Freddy said..." Wanda gave her a blank smile.

"Sure Kitty. Sorry Lance." Lance grunted in response but smiled at her, an expression that told her there were no hard feelings before he went back to his room with Kitty.

"_Chere_, looks like dis was a false alarm, we better go make de coffee – someone's gonna need it," Remy said with a guarded look at the love of his life who nodded, tight-lipped.

"Sure sugah. Wanda, y'all come down when ya ready, okay honeypie?"

"Sure... I will..." They left, Remy's arm around her waist as they descended the stairs together and closeted themselves in the kitchen. Wanda and John were alone in the hallway with an unconcious Toad. Wanda's hex flew him back to his room and glued his door shut.

"Wanda, I – " her second hex pulled him close to her and she tangled her fingers in his hair again, pulling him down so she could kiss him. John had no complaints.

"We tell them nothing," she said firmly when she released him, and he nodded.

"Course not. Now go get dried off," he said in an undertone, and she frowned.

"You don't want to..?" He kissed her again briefly.

"Darlin' y' goin' ta catch ya death standin' about here, drippin' like that an' if I go anywhere with ya righ' now guess who'll be the firs' ta guess ya brother's ramblin's ain' far wrong?" She nodded.

"Makes sense." He looked her over with a glance that was nearly x-rated in itself and then smiled at her.

"But yes, I wan' ta..." she smiled at him and began to walk to her room, him following close behind, and she turned at her door.

"What is this?" she asked hesitantly, and he shrugged.

"We'll talk about it when you're dressed luv."

"Okay..." Opening her door and letting herself in she closed it and leaned against it for support, her mind suddenly painfully full of images and emotions. She didn't want to sort them, most of them were scenes from her nightmares, and the fear and pain that went with them, she recognised them, they replayed when she was agitated or angry, they weren't important, weren't real, but the single shining stand-out thing was the way she had felt when her friends had come out to witness her plight and confusion, each of them accompanied by the one they loved. And suddenly, despite the passionate embraces she had shared with John only minutes ago and their heady encounter only a little earlier seemed frail and easily breakable on comparison and she doubted. She doubted that what they were was anything like as strong as what she had seen in Rogue's eyes or on Kitty's face. And she cried for it.

**_~**************************************************************~_**

"Remy LeBeau ya tell me what ya know about all a' this or Ah'm gonna – "

"Easy now, _chere_, easy –I don' know anymore dan y'self, I jus' suspect, alrigh'?"

"So what do ya suspect?" Her arms were crossed in that awful barrier she preferred when she was uncertain or anxious. He stepped into her personal space and folded her into his arms instead, forcing her to abandon the position.

"I suspect y' worried dat Pietro migh' have some o' de truth an' dat y' don' know if y' like de idea o' John an' Wanda maybe gettin' a little closer, is dat righ' _chere_?"

"Maybe. What do you know about it?" Her eyes were suspicious and he sighed.

"I know Pyro's been real close t' de _petite friponne_ since he moved here, I know she don' feel too badly bou' dat, an' I know he'd like her t' feel even better. Dat answer y' question _ma chere_?" She huffed for a moment and then relaxed into his embrace.

"Yeah, Ah am worried... Ah don' lahke her gettin' close ta him. She ain' been close ta no one since she got them fake mem'ries an' Ah jus' worry she's gonna remember ev'rythang one day soon and it'll all go ta hell. Ya can' tell me Pyro's involvement will help with that." Remy looked at her seriously.

"Y' don' know Pyro's story, _chere_, an' I won' tell y' 'cause if he ain' told no one it's fo' a reason, but y' shouldn' judge him so easily. He ain' never been close t' anyone since he came t' dis country. He hates it here. He can'go home eit'er. So he's trapped here by his pas' an' tryin' ta keep everytin' t'gether, an y' Wanda dere, she's got de same kinda troubles an' she's _tres belle, _an' y' sayin' y' don' wan' her ta have not'in t' do wit' him? De _homme_ has mo' chance o' understandin' her if it all goes t' hell fo' her dan any of us, _chere_. Y gotta jus' trus' me on dis one, alrigh'?" She nodded, wondering what could have transpired in Pyro's life for him to have gained such respect from Remy and for him to be apparently able to understand Wanda, who was definitely unquestionably the most messed up person she knew.

"Ah believe y' Remy, but only 'cause Ah love you ya dumb silly Cajun," she said with a sigh and he lowered his lips to hers, a flutter-by kiss that conveyed his feelings to her in every sense of the word.

* * *


	22. Overkill

**_DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of this._**

**_(TitansRule and rogue-scholar07, thank you for your reviews, I am glad you enjoyed this^^ Bloodypassion, it is all happening for a reason and I just hope you like it. Anon goddess, most faithful of muses, thank you for bein an ever-present inspiration, this wouldn't be possible without your comments and your good humour :) LadyMageLuna, glad you find it so. Laceylou76, honey, I hope you like this and I hope you let me know because this is going to be hard on your sense of romance!! To all of you, thank you for being so lovely and reviewing and you all inspire me so much there aren't words for it. I truly hope you'll all let me kow what you think of this!)_**

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_**

**_~Scarlet Letter ~_**

**_Overkill._**

Freddy didn't pretend to understand half of the things that went on in his house. He didn't need to either; mostly everyone just assumed that he got what he got and if he had questions he'd ask them. And mostly, he asked Wanda when he had any questions. But he didn't like to ask Wanda personal questions. Not for fear of her being angry with him, Wanda was seldom more than annoyed when it came to Fred, but for fear she might be upset or that it could trigger unwanted throwbacks from her forced-forgotten past. He didn't want that. He remembered very clearly the terror she had had them all living in when she came out of that asylum to live with them. He remembered still more clearly how frightened she herself had been, terrified of losing control of her powers, terrified of being found and dragged back to that horrible place she had described to him as being 'hell in hospital form – cold and white and full of pain'. And he didn't want her to go back, either. He was quite frankly astonished that she had been put in there in the first place because he knew that if he had ever had a little sister like Wanda it wouldn't have mattered what her powers were like or what she did, he would have tried to help her anyway.

The way Pietro had told it, their father had been too busy and so occupied with the idea of mutant superiority that he hadn't been willing to take the time to devote himself to helping his daughter develop her powers and instead they had – prematurely manifested as they were – grown to the point where she herself was incapable of controlling them at all, any emotion or impulse she experienced causing a direct reaction in the form of her powers acting up. He had shown Freddy a picture of the twins together at the tender age of five, Pietro's face a curious innocent he hadn't thought had ever been part of his personality at all, and the dark-haired litle girl that was Wanda, her arms around her brother's neck, laughing at something. He had said that all he had wanted was for them to be a family, for their father to accept her and help her, but while Pietro's powers were easily controlled and manifested in early puberty, Wanda's were volatile and infinitely destructive, and when Magneto hadn't been able to make use of her for them, he had tired of the distraction of his daughter and disposed of her.

Thrown her in the mad house and thereby condemning her to a lifetime of drug-stimulated daily cycles and isolation. He had told Pietro he was sending Wanda off to school so she would be safe and wouldn't be a target for his enemies, Magneto's fragile, dangerous daughter, and only when he was twelve did Pietro learn the truth overhearing his father speaking to a bald man in a wheelchair who came to see them, asking his father why he had not sent her to him so that she could be helped while there was still a chance for her to have a normal happy life. Magneto had brushed him off with a cold 'She was a liability - I had to make sure she was incapacitated' and had ordered the bald man out. Pietro had caught him at the door, asking where his sister really was and the man had put the image in his mind of his sister, older now, strapped into something white that trapped her arms around her, crying in a white-painted concrete room, and Pietro had known. His father had lied to him all along and if he could lock away Wanda he could do the same to him. No one would ever find him, no one would ever ask what had happened. And from that day on he had lived in fear of his father.

He had always wondered if she had blamed him, and since she wasted no time in attempting to bring the house down over their heads the moment she steppen in the front door, he had had his answer. Fred knew how much it had hurt him. He had seen the way from the day of Wanda's arrival Pietro had tried to ingratiate himself with her, tried to mend the hurt and the rift between them, but she had been too angry and too focused on the person who had sentenced her to a life of misery – her father. Her entire being was focused on bringing him down, to the point where he actually considered her a threat to his lifelong mission of establishing mutants as the rulers of the earth. Fred had always thought that was a tad comical. Wanda was a threat to anyone and everyone who wronged her. She was the most powerful mutant he had ever met and he was just glad she liked him. Not to mention that her powers were nigh unlimited in their variations and she was capable of almost anything if she tried hard enough. Magneto might control metal – Wanda controlled everything. If Fred had been Magneto he'd have been scared shitless of her, that much was certain. But Bucket-Head had been labouring under the delusion that he could win, that he was somehow capable of getting one over on her in battle however ludicrous that was, and at the very last he had been forced to acknowledge that he couldn't battle her directly and had instead lured her to his hideout and altered her memories so that she did not remember what he had done to her. She had returned confused and unfocused, Toad unable to explain what had happened to her in full, and Fred had been afraid that something terrible had befallen her. It had.

She was not herself. She was prone to fits of depression, she was unsure as of how to conduct herself in relation to them and so she took on the role of their sister, just as she accepted her role as Pietro's, coping with things the only way she could, by pretending they were normal. She hadn't been provided with memories of her living arrangements and so believed she simply lived with her brother and he had then filled out the blanks for her by telling her that they lived with a bunch of his good friends and rented rooms. They did, incidentally, but only to Pyro at the moment and Fred doubted they'd want to bring in anyone else just now. She hadn't been told of her father's vendetta against the human race or hers against him, she didn't remember anything about the Acolytes and believed them to be just another independent mutant terrorist unit. Xavier's Institue she knew for what it was, her memories of having been their enemy were warped, however, and she struck up easy friendships with them all after the battle against Apocalypse. Fred didn't like that much but he conceded that she needed more people in her life to fill the gaping holes for her, distract her. Hopefully enough distraction would lead to there being enough of a base for the false memories to take proper root instead of being an ongoing illusion, but he feared they wouldn't be enough. He also had a niggling worry that someone, someday would say too much to her and trigger the repressed issues and that she would regress into the angry girl she had been when she arrived and that the sweet, caring sister-figure he had come to love so much would be swallowed up in the rage and the anger that had once been all-consuming for her.

And now there was Pyro. He seemed somehow able to circumvent her moods, her bad sides, the little things that aggravated her and made her powers flash to the fore as they had once done every time she felt anything at all. Fred didn't know how he did it, but she reacted to the Australian as though she really were just a normal girl, and while he was glad that they had someone around who was able to calm her down where they couldn't, he worried for her. It wasn't like her to take to someone like that, in fact, it wasn't like her to take to anyone at all without being told by her 'brothers' that it was alright. Pietro didn't want her anywhere near Pyro and yet she defied him, insisting he was alright. That in itself ws strange. She also, despite her happy 'memories' of life with her father and brother, expressed an intense desire to stay away from him, claiming that she didn't want to get in his way, which Fred found had evolved to the point where when pressed by Pietro to visit Magneto she would respond with violence. And it was only getting worse.

He stood outside her door indecisively, on the one hand wanting to knock and ask if he could talk to her, ask if she was alright, and on the other hand he didn't want to fan the flames or tip the balance. He decided to knock, but there was no reply. He pressed his eye to the keyhole but could see nothing but darkness and he knocked again.

"Wanda? Are you in there?" he called, no reply forthcoming, and he grew concerned. He knew she should be in there. It took her more than ten minutes to get dressed and groomed when she'd been in the shower, there was nowhere else she could be because he knew for a fact that Kitty was in the bathroom now, he'd passed her on the way from Pietro's room.

"Wanda!" he called again, getting anxious, and a voice from behind adressed him in a scratchy sort of undertone that was vaguely reminiscent of the ones generally favoured for people who'd lost the plot and were contemplating mass murder in horror films.

"What ya need her for?" He turned around and found himself face to face with Pyro who was looking honestly a little concerned himself, albeit not in the conventional way. Fred reminded himself to ask Remy exactly what the hell was wrong with the guy at a later time, noting that while Wanda had always been forthright and obvious in her aberrations, this guy was apparently prone to fits of relative normalcy that tempered with the crazy every once in a while and made it a little difficult to relate to him. He was as likely to be nice as to be creepy, it seemed. Or totally whacked out.

"I got worried. I know she should be in there an' she's not answering," he explained, watching the other guy for signs of anything out of the ordinary and giving up when the Aussie shrugged and said,

"Might be downstairs. It's breakfast time. If ya worried break the door down an' deal with the consequences later," and left him there with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. Fred made a noise of discontent. And opened the door. It wasn't locked and he thought to himself that that wasn't normal, she always locked the door when she was getting dressed because she was spooked that Toad might try something. Not that Toad had the guts to do that, he knew full well what would happen to him if she told the guys he'd done anything like that.

Peering into the darkness of her room, he decided that it was hopeless without light, but flicking the switch did nothing and he grew yet more concerned. Opening the door wide to let the hall light into her room, he stepped back and looked in instead. He eyes, red-rimmed and lacking all reason stared back at him from the corner of her room.

"Wanda..?" She didn't blink but he could see the blue sparks travelling up her arms, illuminating her well enough for him to see that she was only partly dressed, in black trousers and her bra, and that her arms were covered in vertical marks that glistened in the blue light from her powers.

"Wanda, are you okay..?" he asked carefully, and she closed her eyes, shaking her head, taking a shaky step forward. He remained where he was, frozen in fear and concern. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. Her arms curved up around herself and she looked up at him again.

"Freddy..." She took another step forward, and he noticed that things were floating around her room as the sparks turned to crackles and the blue light glowed and pulsed around her. "They lied to me, Freddy..."

"Wanda, who lied to you? You know we'll get'em for you!"

"No... I will..."

**_~*************************************************************~_**

They'd been having a very romantic moment in the kitchen when they were interrupted by St, John trying to sneak past the door. Or rather, he was walking unnaturally quietly past the door and Remy noticed and snapped his head up to glare at him.

"Answers, _mon ami_, y' owe me," he said flatly, and the Australia froze in his tracks.

"Remy, ya gotta let me go, mate," he replied, looking over Rogue's head at the Cajun in a way that implied this was more serious than she had thought.

"Running away again, eh?"

"What would you know about it?" the Aussie snapped back, and Rogue felt herself pressing against Remy without knowing quite why she felt the need to. He secured his arm around her waist firmly and kept his eyes trained on Pyro.

"Y' can' do dis t' y'self, _mon ami,_ y' have t' at least try t' deal wit' dis," he said quietly, reasonably, and the gleam in Pyro's blue eyes suddenly looked unhealthy. His hands were in his pockets.

"I'll do as I bloody well please and there ain' a thing ya can do about it. I _told_ ya, I don't wanna be you. I don' wan' any o' this."

"Dis ain' de way out, Johnny, it's another cage an' y' know it," Remy sounded calm but the red of his eyes was burning into the other man and Rogue felt caught in the middle, knowing that whatever silent struggle was going on between them wouldn't be kept contained for long.

"Ya don' know a damned thing about cages Remy – the rest of us ain' as great at gettin' out of them as you are. The least ya could do was let a bloke pick his own," Pyro said harshly, and she felt Remy stiffen, close as they were.

"Y' wanna go back to dat shit again? Y' wanna fuck tings up f' y'self wit'out even givin' it a chance? Y' can' be dat fuckin' insane _mon ami_, merde, I thought y'd learned by now!"

"I am not insane." His eyes told Rogue a very different story and she felt a compelling need suddenly to know where Wanda was.

"Fuck dat. Fuck you," Remy growled, "Y' can' even admit it – what were y' gonna do when y' had t'? When dey found out? Y' can burn de whole worl', Johnny but y' can' get away from it an' y' won' deal wit' it an' it's gonna kill y' if y' don' learn dat. Y' can' fight y'self,_ mon ami_. Y' can' do it alone!"

"I'm not alone. I've never been alone. If I'm alone then who's talking?"

"F' fuck's sake Johnny y' know y' not well, why can' y' jus' accept it?" Pyro smiled, a bitter, horrific facsimile of a smile that twisted his features into something almost demonic.

"Because you're all liars and we're the only ones who know," he said eerily. Rogue had a sickening feeling the other part of 'we' was not a person at all.

"Remy," she said shakily, "Where's Wanda..?" Pyro turned his attention to her and smiled, a different smile this time, not as twisted, the sort of expression one might take when dealing with a child.

"Sounds like a game, don't it Sheila? 'Where's Wanda?' Freddy was asking the same question earlier... Pyro doesn't know, we can't play games like that, can we Remy?"

"Oh Gawd... Y'all have completely lost it," she said, realisation dawning on her.

"Lost what? You can't lose something you don't have and I don't have anything therefore how is it that I have lost something?" He wasn't speaking normally, his voice was rushed and the words tripped over each other, coagulating into one or two words where there originally were perhaps four or five in succession and she couldn't hold back a flinch.

"Remy, what the hell - ?" He shook his head imperceptibly and muttered,

"Psychotic episode – either sometin' bad happened or he ain' been takin' his pills an' I don' know which is worse. He ain' _jus'_ hearin' us, _chere_, an' what he is hearin' ain' good. It ain' _ever_ good." She looked into Remy's eyes and saw the gravity of the situation there.

"Let him go," she pleaded under her breath, "let him go, I gotta find Wanda – "

"Can' let him loose on de worl' like dis, _chere_, he ain' righ' an' he don' know what he's doin'," Remy answered quickly, moving her so that she stood behind him, her hands clasping his sleeve tightly.

"Johnny-boy, y' sure y' won' stick aroun' here wit' me f' a while? I only jus' got back after all," he said reasonably, and Pyro shook his head, looking for all the world suddenly like a toddler caught doing something naughty.

"Nope!" And he was gone.

"_Merde_! Rogue, find Wanda, I'll catch him!" Remy yelled over his shoulder, tearing after him, and Rogue nodded and forced herself to run too, up the stairs to Wanda's room, but Freddy was standing in the doorway, talking...

"Wanda, don' be mad, please, it's okay, we'll help you, you'll be okay – "

"They're coming for me Freddy, you can't let them take me back, I won't go back again. And you lied to me too. You all lied to me. I hate liars." Wanda's voice, flat and hard and the way it had been once before, before she'd been tampered with, before the false memories... Rogue's breath choked her, the implications too horrible to contemplate, and she prayed that Freddy was alright, would be alright...

"No, Wanda, I didn't lie to you... We didn't want that to happen to you but we didn't know what to do – how to fix it for you and make you better – we were trying to help you, I'm sorry!"

"I know _you've_ never hurt me Freddy, I know _you_ wouldn't do that. You're the only one, the _only one_..." Wanda's voice broke, Rogue could hear it, and she saw Fred move slightly, move his arms, heard Wanda sobbing.

"You have to help me Freddy, help me get them, all of them, for doing this to me – tell me if it's real, I don't know what's real anymore, all the nightmares..."

"It's okay, I'll help you, we'll all help you..."

"Not them!" Wanda's voice was a ragged shred of it's former self and Rogue's heart pounded in her ears as she tried to figure out what to do, should she move, should she stay? What had triggered this, how much did Wanda remember?

"We have to tell Rogue and Kitty, they'll help, they're your friends – "

"No!"

"Please, Wanda, they'll help, I promise, and me and Lance and Todd too – "

"Not _them!_"

"But we want to – we want to fix this for you so you can be happy again..." Fred sounded so upset, so desperate. Rogue's hands were clasped over her mouth, holding back the sobs as she tried to decide on a course of action, tried to find a way out of all this – if Wanda didn't trust them –

**_BOOM! _**The explosion rocked the house and she stumbled forward, turning to find the source of it and remembered that she had let Remy chase outside after a madman alone... The rippling blue wave of energy that crackled through her, through everything, made her scream in shock and fear and she looked back and saw Fred backing away from Wanda who was advancing on him, radiating power, hair flying around her face, crying,

"You were all lying to me, all of you! All lying to me, you let them do this to me, you didn't tell me the truth and I trusted you, I loved you and you betrayed me! You all betrayed me! **_LIARS_**!" Wanda's feet weren't touching the ground and the raw power pouring off her, out of her, cracked and sparked with sinsister purpose as she raised her arms and shrieked.

The pain that exploded in Rogue's head was indescribable. The hatred, the loneliness, the confusion, the rage, the melée of torrid emotions and broken pieces of memories expanded in her mind until she felt every needle, every twist of metal against her skin, every sear and biting touch of cold, ice cold in her flesh, the agony so overwhelming she felt it tearing at her soul, and it wouldn't stop, it wouldn't stop – she was so young and so afraid and her brother wasn't coming back to save her, wasn't coming back, they didn't love her, no one loved her, no one _loved_ her, they all had to die, all of them, especially him, all of them –

**_~*************************************************************~_**

Picking herself off the floor, she wiped her eyes but the tears wouldn't stop and her fingers came away smeared with something else. Blood, thick and partially blackened, already congealing in cakes and she blanched, horrified. She looked around her but the world was still and deathly quiet and all she could see was Fred's enormous body lying prone next to –

"Wanda!" staggering over to her she threw herself down next to the other Goth, turning her, cradling her head in her lap as she tried to wipe away the tears that blurred her vision – if she couldn't see she couldn't help, but it all hurt so much, it hurt, it hurt... Wanda's eyes were closed, her skin drained of all colour and her veins standing out against it a sick, pale blue. Her lips were crimson, as always, but they were sticky and black flecked them in places. She tried to speak to her but she was just crying, sobbing raggedly with the pain, the searing agony of being betrayed, being left, even though she knew now that they weren't her emotions, her memories, shattering against each other in her head.

"Wanda, Wanda, _please_..."

The Scarlet Witch lay, limp and unmoving over her friend's lap, no rise and fall of her chest indicating that she still breathed, no flutter of lashes over pale cheeks in dreams, nothing to say she still lived at all. Rogue shuddered, unable to stop weeping, unable to do anything except hope and pray that someone was coming to help them, anyone, _help us, help us..._ She felt her conciousness slipping and struggled to hold onto it but it seemed her mind was slick with the agony of betrayal that wasn't hers, shoudn't ever have been anyone's and the pain, all-encompassing pain, just as her fingers were slick with blood, and she fell, falling into nothing where demons lurked, waiting for her, like they always waited for her, except not for her, they weren't hers...

**_~*************************************************************~_**

Professor Xavier had known many mutants in his time. He had trained some of the most powerful sentient beings on the face of the earth – was one himself, even – and had come into close contact with some of the most deadly of them all. He had known all kinds of pain, emotional, physical, allowed himself to feel the pain of others on occasion when the situation called for it and heard the call of those in need so often he sometimes had to block them out to have a moment's peace. The only weapon he had in the face of adversity was his mind, and luckily that was no small thing to have on your side, his being one of the most capable minds he knew of in existence. And so when he first felt the projection,he had not been ready for the intensity of it, the sheer crushing force of the emotions, the fears crashing in on him, and he had lost control. He had not been able to contain it, the force being too much, the pain itself being too much for anyone to bear all at once. He had given in, his last thought that he hoped to God it was not affecting anyone else – anyone without the extra-sensory perception he and Jean for example were capable of. Waking, he knew he had been wrong. The aftermath of it lingered, clinging to everything, and reaching out with his mind, painful as it was, he saw that it had affected everyone. Absolutely everyone.

Logan staggered into his office, clutching his head, trails of drying blood leading from his ears and nose and he looked at Charles with a wild expression, an animal in agony, desperate for escape.

"The mansion – all the kids – _everyone_ – " he struggled to say, "_Three hours down_ – everyone, Charles..."

"I know..." He mentally commanded the television set to turn itself on and was unsurprised but alarmed nonetheless to see every channel covering a live send of the President adressing the nation. " - believe that the world-wide phenomenon was caused by mutant behaviour must not be allowed to flourish; we have yet to ascertain the cause of this shocking incident and we ask the nation to remain calm and to put aside your fears and trust in your government to find the answers. For those who are still suffering from side-effects, we advise strongly that you contact a medical professional as soon as possible and remain in a state of rest throughout the remainder of the day. To those families who have suffered casualties among the weak and elderly, we offer our sincerest condolences. My people, we promise you: we will find the cause of this."

"Charles..." Logan's voice brought him back, the screen clicked off, and he tried to focus on the man in front of him. Logan was recovering faster than them, the mental trauma wearing off much quicker, and he was awaiting orders. In times like these, his military side kicked in and he was efficient and clear-headed. It was what had made him such a valuable soldier. It was what made him such an important ally.

"Wanda, we need... Wanda..." Charles managed, and Logan nodded, leaving immediately. Charles laid his head back on the head-rest of his mansion-bound wheelchair and closed his eyes, willing the psychic torture to end. He prayed that they would not be too late.

* * *


	23. Damage Control

_**DISCLAIMER: Nothing you see here is owned by me except the raw fictional material. Characters belong to Marvel, I just play with them.**_

_**(Anon goddess, this is the result of my grief and I hope reading it can distract you from your own, if only for a little while. Let me know how you're holding up, okay? Laceylou76, honey you're amazing, I know questions might not be directly answered just yet but damage control is what it is and you can't fix the problem until you've contained it so let me know what you think and don't worry - no one's dying on my watch. LadyMageLuna thanks awfully for replying, really sweet of you and I hope you continue to enjoy my work and let me know. Bloodypassion, thanks for reviewing, you always give me such a lot to go on and I'm glad you like what you've seen so far! TitansRule, this may not answer your questions just yet but rest assured, all will be revealed in time, let me know what you think. Rogue-scholar07 it's a word now and thank you so much! Let me know how you like this one^^ Artista BianKa, I hope this is a fast enough update for you and let me know how this gets you, okay? Your responses always make me feel so proud of what I've written. To all of you, you make me feel such pride in my work and I hope I continue to meet standards and make you all happy. Let me know!)**_

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* * *

**_

_**~Scarlet Letter ~**_

_**Damage Control**_

He was there in twenty minutes, it didn't matter about breaking the speed limits, no one was on the street now, most of the world was cowering away indoors, waiting for another incapacitating psychic projection. Not that they knew what it was, but that didn't matter. He'd never driven through town so quickly before, unhindered by anything and everything, but then, he had a mission to see over. He had to get to the girls before this could repeat itself. Wanda... Gods, she could end the world if she tried, assuming she hadn't already attempted it. If that had been her attempt, Logan was simply grateful that he was still standing. And he hoped they were too.

Pulling up with a screech of gravel the first thing he noticed was Gambit lying on the first step of the porch, eyes closed, and he ran to his side, checking the younger man for signs of life. He had a pulse, but he was out cold, and Logan remembered that Charles had mentioned he might have some empathic abilities. If that were the case then Logan pitied the boy, this close to the source and able to feel it ten times more keenly than the average person. No wonder he wasn't up yet. He let him lie, sniffing the air for traces of another person nearby but there was nothing. Entering the house with caution, he let his nose guide him. The air was acrid with the scent of blood, some he recognised as Rogue's but there were others present and he couldn't discern whose they were. He ascended the stairs with a cold dread growing in his chest, praying that he would find them alive and well, and he stopped dead when he saw his Rogue slumped over the unconscious Scarlet Witch in the middle of the hall, not moving. He was by their side in seconds.

He gently laid Rogue out next to her friend and examined her for injury. She had minor bleeding coming from her nose and ears, but that seemed to be a common denominator for the survivors of the projection. She was breathing steadily and he sighed in relief. She was warm and alive and breathing. That was good enough for him. Laying her carefully aside he turned his attention to the lifeless Wanda, cold and pale as marble, not moving even enough to signify breathing. He unsheathed his claws and held them to the side of her face, waiting. The relief he felt when he saw the faint mist on the metal was equal to that which he had felt at Rogue's being alive but upon a look at them like that, together, it was obvious who was in more dire need of assistance. He heard heavy, unsteady footsteps and looked up. It was Blob, his face dirty and tear-stained, eyes swollen from crying but focused on the two girls lying prone on the floor.

"Wanda... she..." he sobbed, and Logan felt uneasy. What did you say to a teenage boy the size of a baby orca who was crying like that?

"Easy there, bub... They're gonna be fine. I need you to search the house for anyone else who's awake, can ya do that for me?" Blob nodded, swiping at his eyes with a massive hand and walking away from him. Logan took out his communicator and said,

"Charles?"

"Yes, Logan? Do you have them? Are they alright?"

"I got 'em. I can't take 'em back like this, I'm gonna need backup. Can you send the elf?"

"Kurt is not well enough – " there was disturbance in the background and the Professor resumed talking.

"He insists. He will come."

"Good. And – tell Hank the Witch is in real bad shape, will ya?" There was a pause on the other end.

"She is alive?"

"Barely."

"Hold on, Logan. Kurt will be there in a moment." Logan disconnected his communicator and put it away, checking Wanda's pulse again but not finding one.

"Aw, shit, kid, ya can't do this to me!" he growled. The _~bampf~_ from behind him had never smelled sweeter.

"Rogue!" Kurt fell forward to his knees by his sister but Logan held him back, claws out.

"She's the least of our worries right now, blue, this one ain't breathin'. Get her back to Hank _now_!" Kurt glanced at Wanda and his mouth fell open. Nodding, he picked her up gently and with a _~bampf~_ was gone again. Rogue's eyes fluttered.

"Kurt..?"

"Whoa there Stripes, he just left ya. Had to get Wanda back home. Does it hurt anywhere?" Logan asked, and she groaned and shook her head.

"Just inside... It hurts so bad inside, Logan... how did you - ?"

"The whole damn world is hurting inside, kid. Wanda projected about a lifetime of hurt and she did a good job of it too..."

"I – I feel dead inside, Logan," Rogue said shakily, and he folded her into his arms and hugged her tightly.

"It's okay now, it's all gonna be okay... It ain't your pain, Stripes, you just hold onto that..."

"Remy! Is he – "

"Gumbo's outside on the porch. Bet ya he ain't feelin' so hot right about now," Logan said, not without sympathy.

"But – he – " Rogue tore herself away from Logan and sprinted down the stairs, and the big man found he couldn't do much but stare after her. It meant that much, whether or not Gumbo was alright?

_**~***********************************************************~**_

"Remy!" He opened one eye and looked up into Rogue's beautiful, worried face, and he cracked a smile.

"_Chere... Je t'aime..._"

"Ah love you too, ya stupid, stupid Swamp Rat, Ah was so scared!" He frowned and let her help him sit up, his brain feeling as though it had been run through a food processor.

"_Merde!_ M' head..." he groaned, and she steadied him with both arms, leaning into him as though she needed to feel him as close as she could, feel his warmth, his presence.

"Sugah... It was Wanda... Logan said it was world-wide... Oh Gawd it was horrible... Are ya alrigh'? Ya must'a' felt it so much worse than me..." He smiled weakly at her.

"_Non, chere..._ 'm alrigh'... I can take a little misery..." She sighed and cuddled into him and he put both arms around her, feeling the scars on his soul heal. He had honestly never been in so much pain as he had when Wanda's agony had invaded his mind. Not only could he feel her projection, his empathy was already coiling itself away from it, the numbing torment of her life of unhappiness and the overwhelming sense of betrayal. And he had desperately clung to the knowledge that he was happy, that his Rogue loved him, that he loved her too, with all his heart, and he had given up his hold on the conscious world and found her in the blackness among Wanda's demons and there he had held on to her, to them. And here she was...

"_Tu es une ange, ma belle chere_," he whispered, and she threaded her fingers through his hair.

"If ya weren' so beat up Ah'd be kissin' ya ragh' now, sugah... Ah ain' never lettin' ya outta mah sight again..."

"I can live wit' dat, _chere_..." he mumbled into her hair, breathing in deeply and just savoring the feel of her in his arms.

"Mmm... What did ya do ta Pyro?"

"Notin'. Had a li'l scuffle, den I started gettin' de bad feelin's from Wanda an' I hit de ground..." Rogue frowned.

"So he's runnin' aroun' here somewhere in that state?" Remy shrugged.

"When he's like dat he' ain' makin' sense, even t' himself. He don' know what he's doin'."

"Y'all said he had psychotic episodes... He was bein' a total lunatic..."

"Like I said, _chere_... Ting's y' don' know about de _homme_. Bes' if y' don' know everytin'. Where's de _petite friponne_?"

"Wanda went back t' the Institute with Kurt... Ah don' know if she's alragh' or not... Ah jus' had t' find ya and make sure ya weren' dyin' or some shit lahke that..."

"_Chere_... Remy ain' never gonna leave y'." He was looking at her with infintiely tender eyes, and she pressed her lips to his briefly.

"That's what they all say, sugah..."

_**~***********************************************************~**_

He could hear angels. He knew that was wrong though, he didn't belong anywhere angels frequented. He had just left an angel for that very reason_. You didn't deserve to be that happy... I thought you learned that last time..._ The voice seemed weak. Perhaps the angels were tiring it? He couldn't feel the rest of his body, just the aching in his heart. He felt like he had torn it out and left it somewhere else, like it was calling to him from afar, punishing him for his treachery, and he didn't know what he could have done to make it hurt so much. **I just left, I didn't **– _Betrayer._ **What? No! I didn't betray anyone, I didn't do anything!** _You ran away. Weak. You're weak__**! **_**I am not!** _You are... you know it, she knows it – look what you've done to her... _The agony was excruciating. He had never before experienced anything so horrific. And the worst thing was, some of the images he was seeing he was intimately familiar with. His own worst fears were in her mind too. How he knew these were her memories he did not know, but over them and under them he felt rather than heard himself screaming for it to stop, begging for it to please stop, and the voice laughing at him, enjoying it. And hers, too... Condemning him... For not being there. For not being who she thought he was. For not being what she thought he was. For not helping her when he had had the chance...

He didn't know anything but the guilt and the pain and it burned him the way nothing else ever had, not even fire seared this deep, scarred like this. He wanted to be forgiven, he wanted to tell her he hadn't meant it, hadn't known how to be anything but what he was, but the memory of their heated kisses and the confusion she felt, the way she had felt almost cheated was the worst thing of all. **I didn't want it to be like this, I didn't want it to feel like this**_**...**__ You made it this way and you'll take it! It's a lesson and you'll learn it this time!_ **No... Please... **_**Wanda**_**...**

_**~***********************************************************~**_

Kurt laid her gently on the bed and Dr McCoy hastened to check her over, attaching electrodes to her temples quickly, thumbing back her eyelids and reading her pulse from the now-beeping monitor behind them. A pinched look came over his usually genial blue-furred face and he turned to his table, pulling out a needle several sizes too large for Kurt's liking and prepping it before turning back to Wanda and looking at Kurt.

"Adrenaline. Look away, Kurt." As the doctor's hand came down, needle in place, Kurt ported to his own room, to safety, leaving the care of Wanda to people with stronger stomachs. And then he teleported back to the 'hood house, desperate to check on Rogue. She wasn't in the house, but Logan was, talking in an undertone to Kitty who was safely cradled in Lance's arms, hiccuping through her tears.

"Elf! What did Hank say?"

"He – pulled out a big needle and – and I had to go!" Logan rolled his eyes.

"Fine. I'll just call Charles and ask him how she is. Next time you stay with the patient!" Kurt nodded quickly and looked to Kitty whose face was a tear-streaked mask of misery. Lance kissed her cheek softly and hugged her closer, her arms curling around his neck as though he were her lifeline.

"Kitty... " Kurt said quietly, but Lance shook his head.

"She's in shock. She can't speak." Kurt nodded again, slowly this time, noting how Lance held Kitty as though she were the greatest treasure on the face of the earth and he would die if anything befell her.

"Take good care of her, _ja_?" Lance nodded.

"You kidding?"

"Where is Rogue?" Lance jerked his head at the window indicating she was outside somewhere, and Kurt ported outside where he was met with the sight of Rogue and Gambit, closely entwined on the last step of the porch, whispering to each other.

"Roguey!" Rogue looked up in shock and then stood up, opening her arms. He ported right into them and hugged her as tightly as he could.

"Rogue, are you okay, are you hurt? The Professor said Wanda did this!! How is that possible? Why?!" Rogue just held him, beyond words, the sight of her adoptive brother safe and well bringing her to the brink of tears again. Until this moment she hadn't fully taken in the gravity of the situation – that people had been harmed, that her family could have been among the casualties, that her loved ones could have been hurt...

"Ah'm fahne, Ah'm okay, what about you? Ya sure?" He ws nodding and couldn't hold himself back, giving her a kiss on the cheek in his relief at seeing her safe.

"Lance and Kitty are inside, Kitty's in shock but Lance is taking care of her," he said using the breath he'd been holding since he saw his sister holding Gambit.

"Is she alraght?"

"She can't talk, Lance says it's the shock. Logan was talking to her when I came, I think she's scared..."

"Not as scared as de _petite friponne_," Remy said gruffly, rising to stand beside the happy siblings, and Rogue put an arm around him too.

"All mah boys are safe an' well..." she sighed, relief just sluicing off her, and Remy smiled at her.

"You took care of my sister?" Kurt asked with narrowed eyes at the Cajun who nodded, a solemn expression on his face.

"Good."

"Kurt, maybe y'all can help us? We lost Pyro – he's sick an' he went off alone jus' before Wanda did her thang an' we don' know where he is..." Kurt saluted his sister and stepped back.

"I will look!" he said, porting off with a sour smell lingering in the air behind him.

"He can't have gotten far..."

"_Je ne sais pas, ma chere_, when he is already all messed up dis may have affected him worse dan de rest of us..." Rogue shivered at the thought that someone they knew – however many issues he might have – could be lying somewhere alone, hurt, perhaps dead...

_**~***********************************************************~**_

**I left because I didn't want to hurt her – see her hurt. That's it**_**.**__ You said you didn't want to get involved but you were lying, weren't you? You can't lie to me, I know you – I __**am**__ you –_ **You're not me! I don't know what the hell you are but you are not me! **_Oh but I am... I've always been you... you know it's the truth. How else would I know everything you want and everything you're afraid of?_ **You don't.** _I do. You're afraid of me, you're afraid of yourself, you're afraid of everything I ask you to do._ **You never ask, you just make me. I'm tired of listening to you.** _But isn't the numbness so much worse than this? Think about it... About being all alone..._

He didn't want to be alone. He had never been alone. Locked in a cell unable to move he hadn't been alone. He was only alone when they gave him those infernal pills to shut him up – if they didn't, he and the voice would chat all day. The pills made the voice shut up, left him truly alone in the dark. He didn't like being on his own, he needed something else there to remind him that he was still alive. He was so afraid of waking up to nothingness and no longer being there, a ghost, an illusion. Like Wanda's memories. He bitterly wished it had never happened. That she had remained an angry young woman bent on destroying her father and brother, at least then she woud be free, she would be in control. Instead he had been a party to her control being forcefully taken from her, everything she knew to be true wiped away and replaced with poor facsimiles of memories one was supposed to acquire by doing. Not by having a freak like Jason poke about in your noggin. He had never liked Jason since the day he'd altered Wanda's memories. It hadn't been right and he was ashamed that he hadn't spoken up against it. He was just glad that Jason nurtured an extreme distaste for the idea of going walkabout in _his_ mind, claiming it was too screwed up for him to be able to work in it. That suited him fine. Nasty little monkey had no business in anyone's head but perhaps his own.

He still didn't know why he'd kissed her. Obviously, she was beautiful and there'd been the added bonus of her having nothing on, always good, but he hadn't wanted to. He had wanted to, but he hadn't _wanted_ to. He didn't want to get attached. In a way, although Remy had himself set up to be the greatest womaniser since Casanova, it was John who really wore the crown. He wasn't in it for the thrill or for the flirting, the gratification he knew Remy sought. The challenge. Not by a long shot. He was a serial user trying to buy his way out of his own delusions by feeding them a distraction. Usually, that worked fine. He didn't care so long as he didn't have to get close to anyone. Especially someone he knew he wouldn't be able to get on without. He wouldn't admit that he was more like Remy than he thought. Shitty past, wasting away the days between all the bad stuff so it would be easier to get through when it came, and the fixation on the idea that someone could make it better. Remy had found his someone. Remy had found Rogue. Abducted and used her and fallen completely in love with her, he had embarked on a quest to keep her safe that nearly killed him in the end, and had returned to her on the off chance that she didn't hate him. John was happy for them. They were both damaged, and if anyone could find a way around Rogue's powers it was the Cajun, but there was so much they would have to fight to be allowed to give it a shot and he knew that Remy wouldn't be able to go on if he couldn't have her. He'd be once again reduced to stalker extraordinaire, lurking around to catch a glimpse of her, and she'd be living with the constant 'what if?' that always came when you added emotion to things.

John didn't like emotions. His manic episodes were obviously not a manifestation of 'real' joy or anything, but they did a good job of making him feel like they were. Just as the come-down from them always felt real – more than real. But those emotions and the way he dealt with them – his career as a professional arsonist, the pyromania he couldn't remember ever being without – weren't healthy and weren't sparked by real things. Normal people were happy when good stuff happened to them. John could be strapped to a gurney having bones reset and he'd be laughing his head off if he was on an 'up'. It wasn't normal. Just as he knew the voice wasn't normal. Being alone when you _were_ physically alone was. Emotions were always confusing and painful in the end. He vividly remembered being examined by a doctor once who told him that he could look forward to a lifetime of pills and therapy if he ever wanted to be a normal, functioning member of society that didn't have to light shit on fire to have a good day, bandying words about like 'psychoinfantilism' and 'severe mood disorder'. He remembered burning down the hospital. Good times.

He knew the residual memories of being locked away, being kept in the dark couldn't all be his, but some of it was, some of it he barely even remembered as his own experiences, having spent so long trying to repress them, forget them. But he knew her fears. To be locked away, never to escape, never to be free again. Betrayed by those you love, those you trust. The guilt and the pain wouldn't go away, but they were always there whatever he did, no matter what he did, so why was it so much worse now that he knew that part of it was hers and part of it was for him?

**Please... Let her forgive me... Let her be alright... I'm so sorry... Let it end...**

_**~**************************************************************~**_

"My daughter did this." It wasn't a question so Charles just let it hang there in the air between them. The Professor and the haunted father.

"How, Charles? How could she cause this much damage?"

"I believe the question is not how, but why. I have not yet been able to penetrate the layers of her conscious but there is a distinct possibility that her repressed memories were triggered and that the shock and the terror may have caused her to utilise her powers to project the pain she was experiencing. There is no doubt in my mind that if she wakes, she will be a very angry and confused young woman. Uncontrolled. Even more so than she was when Mystique liberated her." The pale face of the man once known as Magneto went paler still.

"What do you mean 'if' she wakes?" Charles sighed, steepling his fingers together.

"Erik, I have made no secret of the fact that your treatment of your children – Wanda especially – appalls and disgusts me, and I shall make no secret of the fact that the emotional and psychological trauma you have inflicted upon the girl has damaged her to the point where even through a lifetime of intensive therapy and training it is unlikely that she will ever be able to bond normally with another human being or fully control her abilities. The extensive damage Mastermind's interference with her memories caused her psyche is another factor to consider here. The sheer volume of pain and loss she projected at what I believe to be the moment of regaining her memories fully is an indicator that she is not only damaged but broken. And you and I both know that broken individuals rarely pull through."

"So..." Erik's voice was a harsh whisper, "You are telling me that... that my Wanda... is going to die?" Charles closed his eyes and pressed his lips together in a hard line.

"I believe that if she does survive the mental trauma of the realisation that her life will have to be rebuilt and the fact that she now has an even greater sense of betrayal where you and her twin brother are concerned will ultimately lead to either insanity or her death by either her own hand or some other way. And either one of those two scenarios are to be feared, Erik. The girl demonstrated enough power today to bring the world to it's knees and she was not even trying – it was simple emotional turmoil that brought it about. Control of that power wielded with destructive intent could wipe every living thing off the face of the earth. And it would be your fault." He watched as Erik Magnus Lehnsherr's face turned grey and he covered it with trembling hands, eyes wide and staring.

"Oh Charles... What have I done? What have I done..."

"More damage than any one man should be capable of." Charles said sternly, some part of him joyous over the sight of his one-time friend reduced to this for his crimes.

"Can you not – can you help her, Charles?"

"I cannot reach her. Her mind is too chaotic, too lacking in reason, and I fear I might accidentally harm her if I tried to alleviate some of the chaos, clear her mind. There's also a strong possibility that she could harm me – or that she could project again, and we cannot risk that. For now, I am recalling Logan and the students. I will also need to speak with the Brotherhood – I need to know what passed before her breakdown. And it is imperative that we locate the mutant you know as Pyro." Erik's face turned to his sharply.

"Why?"

"I believe he is the catalyst."

"This is his fault, you mean?" Charles shook his head.

"When Wanda projected, her sense of loss seemed strongly focused on specific persons. I have spent the morning with Jean, trying to catalogue the psychic imprints Wanda seemed to attach the most pain to, and his was one of the more... severe... impressions."

"What kind of pain? Charles, what do you mean by all of this? My daughter is in a coma because of the way I have treated her, what does a mentally ustable Australian have to do with any of this?" Erik's voice was angry but his eyes told the truth of the matter. He was angry with himself. The master of metal had, after being under Apocalypse's thumb, completely turned himself around. He had been shown just what he would do to the world and as much as he still believed that mutants were meant for better things, he could not condone any of the horrors Apocalypse had shown him. He had reached out to his son again, and through his son tried to reach his daughter, but since the defeat of Apocalypse, the brief bond he had felt with both of his children had vanished. Pietro pulling away to be nearer his sister, Wanda keeping away through a desire she could not explain to go nowhere near her father. Pietro had explained it away as her teenage rebellion, ridding herself of the figurative apron strings, wanting to believe that there was nothing more in it, that the false memories she thought true would hold, that this was not a symptom of their gradual erosion. Erik had gone to his old friend Charles with the news, feigning indifference, claiming it mattered not that his daughter seemed to be unable to fully embrace the idea of them as a family despite Mastermind's best efforts, but it was a lie. He was at the same time saddened since he had turned over a new leaf and deeply scarred by the fact he could not repent and ask her forgiveness for it since she didn't know her past had been what it had been, and afraid that she would someday give in to the press of her true memories and come for him.

"Nothing. Everything. If we are to attempt to control the damage she has inflicted and that has been inflicted upon her, we need to know everything, Erik. I know that you think very little of Pyro as both a mutant and a human being, but if the imprint Wanda projected of him could rival that which she projected of yourself, then I believe we need to question him. Assuming that he is still alive." Erik made a quick movement that was entirely unconstructive and could have been a kind of tic.

"Why shouldn't he be? Last I heard he was healthy enough." Charles smiled grimly.

"A person as conflicted as that would be at greater risk of succumbing to the mental deterioration Wanda was projecting. Therefore he would be less likely to recover as Logan, or one of the more well-adjusted teenagers under my care. It is possible in the extreme that he did not survive, but if he did, I want to question him. If not, sadly the boy has no living relatives that we know of but I shall see to it that he is seen to as befits any child who dies before their time." Charles was pleased to see Erik's face lose it's uncaring shadow and fall once more into folds of self-hatred and guilt.

"I – I am sorry, Charles. I did not mean to say such things or to sound so callous. I admit that I never gave a second thought to the boy's state of mind despite knowing half the story. There have been a great many things over the years that I have not cared about as much as I should have."

"As long as you are willing to admit it. Hank will not allow you in the ward for fear your presence will disturb her, but I will make certain that any change in Wanda's state will be reported to you." Erik stood, and moved for the door, and Charles called after him.

"The sins of the father, Erik. I hope this has taught you something."

"I no longer desire any lesson that costs a life, Charles... Least of all the life of my own daughter."

_**~***************************************************************~**_

Logan had been summoned outside by a wild-eyed Rogue who was clutching her brother's three-fingered hand so tightly for support her knuckles were paper-white. And he understood why. Tear-tracks of blood stood out like some sick horror-flick emulation on the pale face of the kid lying in the dirt, and he was barely breathing. His lips were moving as though he were trying to speak, but only by leaning in as close as he could without touching him could Logan hear anything, even with his superior senses. The kid was praying. Not necessarily to any God in particular, Logan couldn't say that, but it was very obvious that he was praying nonetheless. Asking for it to stop. To be forgiven. And as much as he hated to admit it to himself, it was the saddest damn thing he had ever seen. Gambit stood off to one side, hiding his face in Rogue's hair, the Southern Belle's arms around him, her gloved hands stroking his face and soothing him with assurances that it would all be alright, that the deathly pale Australian would live. Logan hoped that she was right. As weird as the kid was, he didn't want anyone dying on his watch.

"Is he going to live?" Kurt asked quietly, and he looked at the elf, the wide eyes, the stricken expression. Shock. Fear. Kids having to see things like this, live through things like this. It wasn't right.

"He ain't dyin' on my time, fuzzy," he said gruffly, and Kurt nodded, slowly, Logan's conviction seeming to help him. He knew it would. Shellshocked soldiers responded to it, why not shocked kids. He'd left Half-pint inside with Rocky, recovering if slowly from her initial shock, Kurt had done his best to help Toad and Blob come to terms with things, Toad proving to be remarkably resilient, Fred terrified that Wanda was dead and certain that Logan was holding back information about her state of health. Pietro was still out cold, Logan assuming that his prior injuries had sapped his strength more than he could stand up to adding the mental torture of his sister's projection. Gambit had recovered somewhat from the projection's devastating effects, and Rogue seemed to be holding up well. Tough as nails, his Stripes, no two ways about it. But the finding of the unconscious Aussie had completely thrown him, and Rogue was finding it hard to deal with his obvious pain at the state of his friend.

"Charles!" he barked into his communicator, rewarded by a crackling,

"Logan, what is your status?"

"Everyone's fine, shock and bruises is the worst of it. Pyro's out cold, can't wake him up, barely has a pulse, talkin' to himself."

"You've found him? Stay with him, Logan, we need him. Can you send Kurt home with him?"

"The elf can't make any more trips, Charles. He's done. It's too much for him. I won't risk him porting with someone that badly hurt when he's not on his game."

"But I can – "

"I said no, elf!" Logan snarled at the teenager, and Kurt flinched and nodded, moving away to stand next to Pyro, looking completely blank.

"Charles, these kids aren't well enough to deal with this and I can't do much more for Pyro like this. I need back up. Can you send 'Ro over to take care of them?"

"Ororo is trying to console the students here and Hank is trying to stabilise Wanda. I have no one I can spare. Do what you can for them – when Kurt is ready send him to me – directly to me! – with Pyro."

"One question: what do you need him for so bad?"

"He needs immediate medical attention. His mind was already compromised when Wanda projected and he is at great risk of dying if he is not helped as soon as possible. We need him here, Logan."

"Right..." with a soldier's eye, Logan asessed the situation. Of all of them, Stripes and Gumbo seemed to have the best handle on things, however distraught the Cajun was, and Logan made a snap decision.

"I'm drivin' him up. Be there in half an hour Chuck – tell Hank the boy's gonna need some serious transfusions. Logan out." He disconnected the device and nodded to Rogue.

"Stripes, I've gotta get this kid to Hank before he gives up – you and Gumbo keep an eye on things while I'm gone, I trust you." Rogue's face was a rigid mask of fear.

"But Logan – Ah ain' even on the X-team anymore – Ah ain' done a mission in months – Ah ain' ready for this!" He looked at her steadily.

"You're on the team, Rogue. And you can do this. I trust you and so does the team. We need you for this. Gumbo, take care of her." Remy smiled weakly.

"_Je promesse_," he mumbled, and Rogue looked from the younger to the older man.

"He can barely _stand!_ Ya can' do this!" Logan ignored her, striding over to where Kurt stood by Pyro and bending to check the kid's pulse again. Flickering. Weak. He picked him up carefully, cursing the fact that he looked lighter than he was – compacted muscle, no doubt – and turned to face her again.

"'Ro and I decided to put you back on the team last week. Y' know why? Because you're strong enough to handle things like this and we all trust you. Bet even Gumbo here trusts you. This is your scene now, Stripes, and I expect a full progress report when I call you. Now move out!" She stared at him, open-mouthed, and Remy put his arm around her.

"C'mon _chere_. Y' can do dis." Without a backward glance, Logan strode to his bike and draped the Aussie over it, gunning the engine and taking off.

"... _forgive me_..." he heard him say, before his lips finally stilled, and he swore loudly and all but tore up the asphalt as he sped toward the Institue, holding on to the kid for dear life.

He only hoped Pyro was holding on to his.

* * *


	24. Dischord

_**DISCLAIMER: I own none of the characters or places portrayed here.**_

_**(Anon goddess - you continue to be as awesomely special as ever, for that I thank you. TitansRule thank you so much, that's so very flattering and I hope you'll continue to review! Rogue-scholar07, thank you!! LadyMageLuna, don't worry, next chapter I am giving you answers and a whole lot of drama so hang tight there, luv. Bloodypassion - I know, I know, I'm messing with stuff, but that's the way it's gotta be and I'm so glad you understand you little peach, you!! Enjoy!! Irual - here's your update and I hope you'll let me know how I did with it ^^ All of you, you are all such an inspiring, fantastic bunch of lovelies and if I could I'd force Marvel to hand things over to you but since I can't I'll just continue to write and hope it pleases you!!)**_

_**

* * *

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_**~Scarlet Letter~**_

_**Dischord**_

It was amazing the way she took over, he thought. She was everywhere at once, ignoring her own pain entirely, seeing to it that everyone was well and talking to them all, reassuring them. Pietro woke up in a state of total shock and insisted on going to see his sister, but she had forced him to accept that Wanda would likely be in no fit condition to see anyone and that if she was she'd probably not want to see her father or brother at all. He hadn't said a word since. Toad and Fred were dealing with things very well but he could tell that Fred was on the verge of tears and that Todd was having difficulty meeting anyone's eye. He wondered if the lad had finally come to terms with the fact that Wanda was too unstable to ever appreciate his advances and that he'd been doing her more harm than good by showering her with attention. If he had, that had to be a blow.

Watching Rogue taking care of Kitty who seemed to be regaining her ability to speak and was conversing with the Goth in low tones under the watchful eye of Lance he thanked God that she had come out of this alive. Others, the TV told them, had not. He didn't know if he would have been able to bear it if he had woken up and she hadn't, after finally confessing his love to her, to lose her like that would have been too much to take. He could tell by the way she had reacted earlier that she felt the same way about him, the relief she exuded balm to his soul, but there was something wrong still. She was worried about Wanda. He could only imagine how hard it had to be for her, the knowledge that she could lose someone she'd gotten so close to, that if she lived she might not even be able to speak to her again – might have become the enemy. At least he knew that if Pyro woke up, he'd be the same as he'd always been. _When. When he wakes up. They're both going to be fine_. He repeated it to himself over and over as he watched her. Just like old times, soaking up her every move, cataloguing her expressions, the way she tucked her bangs behind her ear... She was beyond beautiful. Lance was suddenly beside him, eyes trained on the girls as well, hard and cold.

"She gonna live?" he asked roughly, and Remy shrugged.

"I don' know, _mon ami_... I can' say anyt'in'. De _fille_ is seriously damaged," he answered quietly, immensely tired, and he saw the twitch of Lance's mouth.

"God damn it she's like my sister," the younger man said in a harsh voice that he knew covered the desire to weep.

"I know... Y' gotta be strong f' Kitty, _mon ami_. Y' can' let her see y' scared."

"You worried about Pyro?" The question hurt. He didn't want to think about that.

"He'll be fine."

"That's not an answer." Remy shook his head.

"It's de one I can give. Y' can' tink about de bad shit, Rocky. Y' have t' try an' stay focused on what y' know. Wanda ain' de sort a _femme_ t' lie down an' give up. Pyro ain' de kind a guy t' do dat either."

"We knew it could happen you know. We knew she could do something like this, we just didn't know when or why she'd do it. We should have taken better care of her when we had the chance..." the guilt that oozed off Lance was choking Remy and he rubbed his eyes roughly.

"Dere ain' notin' y' could have done f' de _petite friponne_, y' gotta accept dat dis is her daddy's fault an' it's his burden t' bear. Y' took care o' her de best anyone's ever done. Y' should be proud of dat an' I know de Wanda y' been livin' wit' dese past few months was damn proud of y' too. She said y' were her _famille_. Dat's a pretty huge fuckin' deal." Lance's eyes closed and stayed shut and Remy knew he'd said the right thing. Rogue approached him and motioned for him to join her. He got up, clapping Lance on the shoulder and following her into the kitchen where she stood with her back to him.

"_Chere?_ What's wrong?"

"Ah don' know how ta do all this... Ah don' feel strong enough ta deal with all this pain..." she whispered, and he reached out and put his arms around her waist, holding her carefully, knowing that she felt as well as sounded breakable.

"Y' can do dis _chere_... I know it's hard f' y' t' know dis is all y' can do...but it's all gon' be alrigh'..." She leaned into him and he closed his eyes, relishing it.

"Ya know ya couldn' have picked a better tahme ta be here fer me," she said with the hint of a laugh in her voice, and he kissed the top of her head.

"I been here f' you all dis time, _chere_."

"Ya gonna be able ta keep that up?"

"Ain' never been a problem before..."

"Y'all are worried fer them too, aren't ya?"

"I don' wanna be worried, _chere_. I know dey can pull through."

"Ya think they could 'a triggered each other's breakdowns somehow?"

"_Non_. I tink Pyro was just already on de way down an' dis has been comin' f' a long time wit Wanda..."

"How could anybody do those things t' her? She was just a kid fer cryin' out loud," Rogue turned in his arms to face him, tears trickling down her cheeks, and he sighed.

"I don' know _chere_... people suck, an' bad people well... guess dey jus' suck worse. I can' tell y' why her daddy did what he did or why dey treated her like dat in dat place, all I can do is tell y' if I had my way, it never would 'a happened..."

"Ah can' imagine what it's lahke ta be so afraid of bein' taken back..."

"I know _chere_ an' I ain' never lettin' y' find out. Y' stayin' here wit' me." He kissed her briefly, and she sighed into the gesture.

"Y'all better damn well mean it."

"I do."

"That reminds me – can ya arrange some kinda kidnappin' aroun' the tahme Blaster Boy an' Mutant Ariel decide ta get hitched?" He chuckled.

"Y' up fer a little vaction time down Louisiana way, mid-summer?"

"How do you know they're gonna pick a mid-summer date?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Y' wan' t' know what de dress looks like too, _chere_? I know it all!" The delighted smile faded into another kiss and she pulled away reluctantly.

"I'll come t' Louisiana if Wanda's okay by then," she said seriously, and he nodded.

"Wouldn' dream o' askin' y' t' leave before, _chere_..."

_**~****************************************************************~**_

Hank McCoy had seen a great deal of things in his adult life. He'd sewn wounds up, tended teenagers with hangovers and even helped manifesting powers develop and that was just in his time at the Institute. Reading St. John Allerdyce's official file, he realised that there were a great many things he had luckily been sheltered from, no matter how much experience he had in countless fields. And he was thankful for that fact. The sheer magnitude of what he had read sank in slowly like the first warning signs of an oncoming storm, and he closed the window and leant his head back, trying to find the connection between Wanda and this tortured young soul.

Wanda was unresponsive still, but a brain scan had shown no physical damage so he held up hope that if she woke from her comatose state she would at least still be fully functioning in the basic medical sense. Pyro was to all intents and purposes fit and well, the one small hiccup being that he was unconscious still and scans had shown nothing. He allowed himself to consider their respective backgrounds. Both without loving families, cast out, both having spent time in state-run facilities, both having destructive powers. It was infinitely saddening to be party to all this knowledge regarding two so young who had already been through things he'd never wish on any adult, things no young person should have to be put through. A series of beeps coming from the monitor above Pyro's bed alerted him, and he rushed to his side, reading the results gravely. The lad twitched, and Hank sighed softly. If he hadn't known any better he'd have said that the boy was fighting his own waking. But then, from the information he had gathered, it would not have surprised him. The boy had nothing to wake up to.

"Hank, how are they?" he looked up to see Charles wheeling in silently, and smiled, the weariness apparent on his face.

"No change. The boy seems to be resisting his return to consciousness, Wanda responds to nothing. You aren't going to probe their minds, are you?" His old friend set his mouth in determination.

"I must try. If we can learn something then perhaps it will be easier to help Wanda when she wakes up. I can't let her fall back into her old rage again, Hank, she is simply too dangerous."

"And the boy?"

"I believe that he has been neglecting to take the proper medications required to keep his condition under control for some time now. He may have been experiencing an advanced psychotic episode and that would most certainly have led to his natural defenses being lowered. The imprints that Wanda left of him seemed linked to a great sense of loss, and I believe he may have the answer somewhere in his mind. If he does, that could be key to helping her overcome her anger." Hank nodded and allowed Charles to come closer to Pyro's bedside, the other man closing his eyes and reaching out with his powers the way he had seen him do thousands of times in the past. He had always meant to ask Charles how he did it, exactly how he sifted through the memories and impressions in other people's minds and found what he was looking for. It was a fascinating concept.

"I see... Dear Lord..." Charles put his index fingers to his temples and began to rub, gently. Hank waited.

"It would appear," Charles said with a certain element of surprise in his voice, looking up at Hank, "that the boy is in love with her."

"In love with her?" Charles nodded.

"It is the only thing that stands out, that I could grasp. His mind is the most chaotic I have ever encountered, I have no doubts this is due to his mental illness but it makes probing very difficult."

"But if he is enamoured of her, then why should she link him to feelings of loss? Surely that makes no sense?"

"I gathered that he has not himself accepted it fully. It is there, the raw emotion is there, but he has yet to come to terms with it and embrace it. As far as I could tell, he did not plan to."

"I see... But how could she have known that?" Charles looked over to the bed that held Wanda and shook his head.

"I believe that John and Wanda may have become close recently, their similarities would undoubtedly draw them together in some way or another and of course it is not hard to see why they would be attracted to each other. If John was indeed psychotic at some point before Wanda's breakdown he may have been hearing voices. You've read his file?"

"He has a history of auditory hallucinations including a well-documented voice which follows him through almost everything he does as well as a series of variations upon it. Apparently the variations are triggered by stress – usually difficult decisions or situations where some form of pain is undergone. There was a highly disturbing report of a hospital visit that went badly wrong..." Charles nodded.

"When he is under the influence of one of the variations he is acting out of fear. He is unable to control any of his emotions and they manifest themselves in ways that would seem to be the exact opposite of what he is truly feeling. We cannot understand what he goes through, but what we know is that it is an intensely uncomfortable experience for the boy and he is motivated by the desire to escape the situation. Even if the last thing he truly wanted was to leave someone, he would be compelled to do it during an episode by either the hallucinations or the delusion of paranoia; that he will be hurt or betrayed in some way."

"So if he had been with Wanda around the time of her memories returning and he himself was in the grip of one of these episodes, he may have unwillingly left her and sparked the loss she was projecting?" Charles nodded.

"We must consider the possibility. Wanda would have been hypersensitive to anything around her and we already know that John would have been unable to control his own impulses – if the two situations were linked that may be the answer to why she should project such strong feelings of loss linked to him."

"How has he even managed to elude the system for this long?" Charles smiled wryly.

"Practice, I should think." Hank grimaced.

"You know what I mean. Children left to fend for themselves like this – it's not right, Charles! The kids here are happy, well-adjusted, properly cared for. From what I can see the system gave up on this boy years ago and no one ever bothered to look into Wanda's case and find the truth behind her anguish!"

"We cannot right the wrongs of the past, Hank, all we can do is try and help them recover from it now. I'll leave them to you. I may need to come back and try again later, but until they wake up there's very little we can do for them." Hank sighed.

"Could you send Jean down to help me?"

"I shall ask her. My friend, I know this has touched you deeply, but try not to be so angry with the world. Wanda can take care of that well enough on her own." Hank rolled his eyes at the poor attempt at humour and allowed his old friend to exit the med bay without further conversation, recognisig the fatigue in his eyes. He knew that probing a mind as confused at Pyro's was likely very strenuous.

"I ... _Wanda_... " The raspy words shocked him so much that he jumped a little, looking to the boy on the bed in front of him in disbelief, and he was entirely unprepared to find him looking back – well, looking past him to the pale-as-death witch in the other bed behind him.

"Easy there son, she's going to be just fine," he soothed, moving out of the way so the lad could see her better.

"My fault... All my fault..." the broken voice nearly broke Hank's heart as he saw the measure of belief in the boy's eyes. The guilt.

"No, son, it's not your fault, you never wanted this for her..." he tried to sound convincing, reassuring, but it was as though his words didn't register and the lad's voice was barely audible as he spoke again for the last time before his eyes fluttered shut again and he withdrew back to the land of the sleeping.

"... me... don't have a... dad... 'm sorry..."

_**~*****************************************************************~**_

She'd never had much to do with Wanda Maximoff. She knew all about her, obviously, but she'd never really spoken to her or gotten to know her. And now here she was, removing the girl's rings and boots, feeling like an intruder in a life that should have remained a secret. Hank was doing a blood test on the other unconscious mutant present, trying to determine when he had last taken his medication, and she had orders to call him immediately should he wake up again. Jean fervently hoped that he didn't wake up again. She wasn't certain she could deal with him awake. She felt a strange sort of pity for the two unfortunate teens, it was a pity that stemmed from what she knew of their pasts and troubles, but in a way she feared them as well. Anyone who had lived through the things they had could not have come out of it as wholesome, normal people. And Jean had an inherent fear of people who weren't normal, people with problems. She liked things to be in order, tidy and neat, and the idea of a mind in chaos was repulsive and frightening to her. She didn't know how to respond to people who had been through things as horrible as John and Wanda so she would either become overly supportive to the point where it was sickening even to herself, or she would be clinical. It was why she didn't get on with Rogue. Rogue felt her pity and shunned her for it, and the more she did that the more supportive Jean tried to be and the more Rogue would feel pitied and push her away. She'd given up hopes of ever being true friends with the Gothic girl, and she'd never considered reaching out to Wanda. Rogue had. They were the best of friends, Jean knew, and though she was happy that the two girls had found something in each other, she'd always feared this day would come, and that it would hurt Rogue to have to be there to see it.

But Jean had little time to think of such things these days, she and Scott were finally engaged, there was the wedding to plan – she really didn't need the distractions of people around her having internationally compromising mental breakdowns. A noise from behind made her jump, and she swung around to see Erik Lehnsherr lurking in the doorway. How an imposing man such as that managed to lurk she did not know, but that was the only description she could think of for the way he was standing there, furtive and shifty-looking.

"You're not supposed to be here," she blurted out, and he looked at her with something akin to a sneer on his face.

"I cannot even come to see my own child?"

"If you'd been interested in her you wouldn't have locked her up. You can't be in here," she said warningly, and he sighed.

"Much has happened since then, Miss Grey. I don't expect you to understand what was going on at the time, how difficult she was to handle – "

"To control, you mean!"

"If you like. Wanda was so powerful and so afraid of that power. I did what I could but I was selfish and I opted for the coward's way out. I gave her to people who would be abe to deal with her."

"Why not just let the Professor help her?" He smiled bitterly.

"Charles and I were not on good terms, Miss Grey. I was a very different person then. Close-minded. Bent on only one thing. I had no time for an uncontrollable child. I have seen the error of my ways and I have tried to rectify my past mistakes. I only wanted to look at her... See if she was alright... She's still my daughter." Jean glared at him haughtily.

"I think you've outstayed your welcome. I want you to leave. The Professor said he didn't want you in here in case she woke up." Lehnsherr just looked at the bare-footed girl on the bed, brows knitted together.

"My daughter and my former Acolyte. Has Charles examined him yet?" Jean moved to obstruct his view of Wanda and put her hands on her hips.

"Why don't you go and ask him. He's upstairs. I have work to do here."

"Very sad case, that one. Tragic. I dealt him a wrong hand too, you know. Used him. He'll never be happy, that boy."

"Erik? What on earth are you doing in here? Out! Out, I say!" Dr McCoy's voice was an outraged growl rising to a bellow as he pointed at the door and advanced on Lehnsherr who backed away from him.

"I just wanted to see her, Hank, that's all..."

"I said out!" The moment Lehnsherr's foot crossed the line of the doorway Jean slammed the door shut, holding it with her powers, and Dr McCoy turned to her, face angry and animalistic in his displeasure.

"What did he want? He didn't touch them, did he?"

"No, Dr McCoy, I told him to go but he kept talking about them and he wouldn't leave!"

"Next time you yell for me and I'll sort him out, dear. I won't have him disturbing my patients – oh dear – " Dr McCoy pushed past her and hurried to John's bedside, lifting the lad up as he retched and coughed, violent spasms racking him. Jean was horrified to see his lips stained red.

"Jean! Jean, I need you to hold him!" Flinging out a hand she did as she was asked, trembling though she was, as Dr McCoy fetched a syringe from the table and slid the needle into the pyromaniac's arm, holding him still until he was no longer moving. She thought she heard him say something though.

"What was that? What did he say?" Dr McCoy turned a grim face to her and said,

"I believe he said _'I'll kill him'_."

_**~****************************************************************~**_

Rogue and Remy were currently ensconced in the kitchen, helping Ororo with the other students. The weather witch was worn to a frazzle and still insisted on doing her part for the traumatised teenagers that had been placed in her care. Lance and the 'hood boys were outside, claiming they wouldn't come in because it would upset the X-kids, and Logan was keeping an eye on them. Scott was helping Rogue and Remy but with all the girls too interested in why Remy was there to begin with and all the guys anxious to go and disturb the 'hood boys, chaos was rife. At least they had a distraction from the lingering upset Wanda's projection had caused, but it wasn't a very constructive one and Rogue could tell that it was grating on Remy's nerves that he had been chosen as the outlet for their nervous energies. In the end she had to ask Ororo to excuse them and drag him upstairs – much to the disappointment of the girls, and Scott who enjoyed watching the Cajun's distress.

"Y' jealous, _chere_?" he asked with a flirtatious grin, but she could see the fatigue in his eyes and his heart wasn't in it.

"No... unless ya really lahke jailbait none of them are any good fer you." He shrugged and sat down on her bed.

"Don' care. Y're de only one f' me, _chere_." She smiled at him.

"Y' know I never thought anyone would say that to me?"

"Can' see why not..."

"Don't be an ass, Remy, ya know why not." He sighed and reached out for her. She stepped into his arms and let him hug her.

"Ya have ta admit y' worried, sugah," she said softly, playing with his hair, and he shook his head.

"Can' be worried, it'll go wrong, _chere_..." The _~bampf~_ that announced her brother's arrival didn't even make him look up.

"Oh – er – bad moment? I can leave – "

"No! What is it Kurt?" He looked nervously at Rogue, his tail whipping about in his agitation.

"It's de Professor – he needs to ask you two some qvestions..."

"About what?"

"I tink he vants to know about Vanda and Pyro – Pyro's been avake – " Remy looked up and fixed Kurt with a glowing red stare.

"He's awake?"

"Not right now – he vas earlier for ten seconds, den he fell asleep again. Vill you go to de Professor?" Remy looked at Rogue pleadingly.

"Honey, ya sure y'all can deal with this raght now?"

"I'm all he has, _chere_."

"Tell the Professor we'll be ragh' there, Kurt." Her brother nodded once and then was gone. She turned to face her Cajun.

"Y'all have ta tell me when ya can' handle anymore, Remy..." He shook his head, his hair falling into his eyes.

"_Chere_... Dis place reeks o' misery an' fear an' my bes' friend's down dere wit' your Wanda dyin' o' whatever an' I can' jus' give up cause I got y' an' him t' tink of. I can handle it."

"Gawd Ah wanna kiss ya ragh' now. Ya darn fool hero." He smiled at her and said,

"Ain' never been a hero before... Damn tirin' business!"

_**~*************************************************************~**_

The weary young man who entered his office was a far cry from the cocky, self-assured young rip who'd sauntered into it on the morning after Rogue's concert where she'd seemed so at ease with him. That seemed to have escalated as well, if his arm around her was anything to go by.

"Ah, Mr. LeBeau, I have good news. St. John woke up earlier and was able to speak briefly with Hank – Dr McCoy – and we've been able to completely stabilise him and medicate him according to the records we have available. As soon as he's rested thoroughly you may see him." Rogue's face brightened at the news and Remy's eyes closed in silent relief.

"_Merci beaucoup, Professeur_," he murmured, and Charles had to smile at them.

"I am afraid Wanda's condition has not improved but she seems stable and perhaps this unconsciousness is simply due to her body's overexertion after using her powers to project so strongly. We will let you know if there is any change." Rogue nodded and curled her arm around Remy's waist for comfort.

"Now, I am afraid I must ask you some delicate questions... First of all – were either of you aware that Mr. Allerdyce is enamoured of Wanda?" Remy grimaced and Rogue looked nonplussed.

"Ah didn' know... Ah knew she kinda lahked the guy but I didn't know if he was jus' playin' around or not..."

"Johnny's in love wit' Wanda," Remy said quietly and Rogue let go of him.

"He what?! Ya knew that an' ya never told meh?!"

"I didn' want y' t' worry _chere_, y' already thought he was de Devil himself f' spendin' time wit' Wanda – "

"If y'all had tol' meh he was in love with her Ah wouldn' 'ave been so damn worried!!"

"I thought y'd hate the idea," Remy tried and she snorted.

"What are you talkin' about? If he'd been playin' her Ah'd have hated the ah-deah, if he loves her then that's great! They're perfect fo' each other!"

"Dat's what I thought! But y' didn't want t' hear it!"

"Remy LeBeau y'are a jack-ass. Ah lurve ya, but y' are a jack-ass." She hugged him suddenly, and Charles was forced to clear his throught as it became clear the two teens were about to seal their reconciliation with a kiss.

"So Mr. Allerdyce is truly in love with Wanda?" Remy rolled his eyes.

"Johnny won' admit it because he's too freaked he'll fuck tings up or hurt her – or dat she'll hurt him. De _homme's_ been through too much shit t' deal wit' bein left like dat an' he don' take chances on bein' hurt emotionally. He knows what it does t' him. Y' know 'bout all his issues?" Charles nodded and Remy grimaced.

"Den y' know what goes on in his head from time t' time an' why gettin' involved wit' Wanda would be a bad idea t' him. He's too screwed up t' admit dat she migh' be good f' him. He loves her though. He really does... Dey jus' too righ' f' each other, it's almost funny... Too bad she don' feel de same way..."

"Ah think she does. Ah think she really does feel for him an' that's why she's so afraid of gettin' close to him..."

"Thank you, Remy, Rogue, and my congratulations on your own... alliance, shall we say?" Rogue beamed and Remy flashed a smug grin that implied he was indeed the luckiest sod ever born.

"_Merci_," he said, and Rogue giggled. Giggled. Rogue.

"Thanks, Professor. It kinda jus' – happened, ya know?"

"Over the course of ten months, it happened. Yes, I know," Charles said as the teenagers left his office before turning to face the window and looking out. Could that possibly be the answer to all of this?

* * *


	25. End Of Days

_**DISCLAIMER: I own none of this you imbecilic bastards. Go bother someone who has the time to kill you slowly. **_

**_(Anon goddess, Laceylou76, you're my special girls and I love y'all bigtahme. Just putting that out there. Irual, thanks so much for the cookies, they helped me edit!! SilverWolf77 thanks for delurking, much appreciated and I'm glad you like it! Bloodypassion, thanks for everything girl you rock. TitansRule sorry no intervention but I hope you like the way I do things anyway^^ LadyMageLuna, I'm so flattered you want to read it all again and I hope you enjoy every second! I wish you all much happiness and Tetleys!)_**

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_**~ Scarlet Letter ~**_

_**End Of Days**_

_**~*****************************************************************~**_

They had been sitting on the terrace in silence, Lance holding Kitty's hand since she refused to leave him in his time of grief, Pietro slumped on the half-wall that partitioned the terrace from the rest of the garden, Freddy and Todd just sitting around listlessly. They were waiting to be told whether or not there was any change in Wanda's condition but so far no one had bothered to tell them anything. Not that there was anything to tell, really. Kitty felt restless, as though she were standing on the edge of something bad just about to happen but had no way to stop it or warn anyone else of it. She compensated by leaning in to Lance and taking comfort in the largeness of him next to her. He put his arm around her, understanding the need for closeness. She knew in her heart that if they had not been already reconciled by this time, the shock of Wanda's regression and incapacitation would have brought them together again. And to her, that was the most precious knowledge she had ever had. Knowing that silly tiffs and worries would never be able to keep them from each other in the end, that he would be there whatever happened. She felt a pang of sorrow for Wanda, never having had that, perhaps now she never would. Kitty didn't even think Wanda had ever been kissed before. So much of life had been stolen from her, denied her. The first day of high school, prom nerves, her first A grade, Wanda had none of these things to look back on. Fundamental life experiences that Kitty knew shaped her as a person, had made her the Kitty he was today, Wanda had never had them.

She had her brother, the dejected, beaten creature perched on the partition wall, not looking at anyone, staring out over the perfectly tended lawns, his grief palpable. How he must be feeling, she thought to herself, how guilty he must feel. Losing his twin would break him. He didn't have a father figure to look up to, she knew he'd discarded Magneto as one such a long time ago. He had no love for their father, blamed him for destroying the bond between himself and his sister so long ago. He really had no one besides Wanda to love and take care of. Kitty had about a hundred people, including her family back home, her extended family here, Wanda and the 'hood boys who were not so much extended family as a sort of extra safety net for the really really bad times, to love and who loved her right back. She was wrapped in a safe cocoon of love from all around her, Wanda had really known very little besides betrayal and fear in her relatively short life.

A disturbance to her left caught her attention and she saw the X-kids filing out of one of the side doors, likely from the kitchen, coming towards them with expressions ranging from interest to dislike to open hostility. She prepared to do some good old fashioned yelling. Bobby spoke first, leaning against the redwood terrace table Kitty knew was one of Ororo's favourite pieces of furniture on the premises and addressing Todd.

"So hey, your girlfriend's responsible for all this?" Todd didn't even look at him.

"She's not my girlfriend, yo," he said quietly, and Bobby snickered.

"Not hard to see why!"

"Bobby!" Kitty glared at him, her tone hard and warning him to give up whatever stupid plan of antagonising the boys he would surely have cooked up.

"Just saying is all, Kitty, I mean, even _she's_ not crazy enough to want to get down with that – " Pietro's hands were abruptly around his throat, his eyes glazed over with hatred and raw grief, and Bobby spluttered and coughed, his face rapidly turning purple, the shock making him forget to use his powers at all.

"Pietro! Stop it!" Kitty cried, Amara starting forward with an,

"Oh my God, Bobby!" Fred stepped towards them, picking up Pietro and detaching his hands from around the younger boy's neck, Bobby falling to the ground in a boneless heap, Pietro writhing in Fred's solid grip.

"Guy's insane – " Bobby said, face contorting in anger " – I'll show you what happens to guys who – "

"_I'm_ insane? Maybe I am – maybe you would be too if the only person you had in the world was lying in a coma somewhere in _your_ stupid mansion! If I'm insane then fine but I learned from the best and guess what – he's down in _your_ fucking med bay too, comatose, just like my sister and until they both wake up I'm not going anywhere so you better just fucking _deal_ with that!" Pietro shouted, Fred setting him down but keeping a firm hand on his shoulder to prevent him from flying at Bobby who had risen and was preparing to ice up. Amara stood next to him, hands flaring, glaring daggers at Fred and Pietro, and Kitty looked past them to where Sam and Ray stood, looking intensely uncomfortable with the situation. Roberto had pulled back, viewing the scene with distaste written in bold all over his face, and Jubilee and Rahne were looking to Kitty for direction. She suddenly felt the weight of the world on her shoulders – they were only kids for God's sake, she was older and on the real team, this was hers to sort out. She felt Lance's arm leave her shoulder and the subtle push forward he gave her and she knew she could do it.

"Bobby, you listen to me and you better take this to heart – if I ever see you being this insensitive to someone who's grieving again I will _phase_ your heart right out of your _chest_ and _leave_ it out, is that _clear?_ And the rest of you – I am so ashamed to call you my housemates right now, I can't even _express_ it! None of you will ever be X-men if you let your teammates act this stupid – it is _your_ responsibility to make sure the others toe the line and act like they should when they're wearing that damn uniform and even when you're not you still represent us and what we stand for – and Amara, honestly, just because you have, like, a total thing for Bobby does not mean you can use this as an excuse to be Bitch Number One around here – that's still Rogue's title so you just back down or _else_!"

"I – Kitty's right..." Roberto sighed from his position at the back of the group before leaving, and Amara put her hand on Bobby's arm and led him away, the two of them united in their indignation.

"We're sorry man, hope your sister makes it," Ray mumbled in Pietro's direction but he didn't answer him. Jubilee and Rahne just nodded to Kitty and turned to leave with Ray and Sam, and Kitty crossed her arms over her chest and huffed loudly.

"I'm just glad Jamie wasn't here to see that. Ororo is totally going to hear about this so if you guys aren't in your rooms in five, expect bad weather." They left a little faster after that. She felt Lance's arms encircle her from behind and looked up at him, the pride on his face warming her from the inside.

"Kitten, I've never loved you more," he said honestly, and Pietro looked at her appraisingly.

"I would have hurt him, Kitty. Thanks. I know you love Wanda as much as I do," he said softly, and Kitty smiled at him.

"It's gonna be okay, Pietro. I mean, there's no way she didn't totally bond with you while she was doing so well lately and she like, totally does love you, you know? When she wakes up, you'll work it out..."

"She's gonna hate us all again," Todd said dejectedly, and Lance shook his head.

"Wanda's family. She won't forget that just because of this. She's better than that." Kitty only hoped that he was right...

_**~****************************************************************~**_

Faces floated in front of her. Round and genial, smiling proudy at her. Freddy, she knew him, Freddy the Teddy. Freddy who'd talked to her, who hadn't run away. File under 'Good'. Another face. Thin, framed by lanky hair, skin unhealthy looking and grey in hue. Todd... Toad. That was Toad. Toad who worshipped the ground she walked on, who followed her constantly, who was shit-scared of her but always came back. File under 'Good'. This face was manly, ruggedly handsome if sporting an odd hairdo. It suited him. Gave him a stronger chin. Lance? Lance... Avalanche, who made the ground shake and brought down buildings. Lance who brought her cocoa when she was cold and felt lonely. File under 'Good'. Definitely. A brown-haired blue-eyed beauty with a snub nose and an infectious smile was looking at her, eyes twinkling. Kitty. Lance loved her. Wanda loved her too. Not by default, but because she was always so warm and so loving to everyone. File under 'Good'.

This face was framed by snow-white bangs and had deeply-lined, forest green eyes. The mouth was full-lipped and painted dark purple, and smiling. Rogue. Rogue who had reached out, connected with her. Rogue who made her feel loved and special. Rogue who fought with her and laughed with her, who knew the value of silence and when to use it. File under 'Good'. Red eyes watched her. They weren't threatening, but they glowed intrigueingly, chestnut hair falling into them. Remy. Rogue and Remy, Remy and Rogue. She trusted him and Wanda trusted her. He made Rogue smile. File under 'Good'. The next face was lovely, green eyes and red hair, but it reminded Wanda of that vacuous Disney bimbo with a fishy tail she had once seen on television and she discarded it. It wasn't important. It was irritating. File under 'Meh'. Someone with red sunglasses on went in the same pile, an itching feeling that he was something to do with the previous face leading her to place him there. If it was associated with her, it couldn't be worth the time. Then there was a sharp-featured face, with silver-white hair and a loving smile, handsome but painful. It cut into her heart and she wanted to ignore it but it wouldn't go away. _Something like me, someone like me, someone who's hurt me..._ Pietro. Her twin brother. Flesh of her flesh. Traitor. Betrayer. He loved her. He had taken care of her. Lied to her. But he loved her. He looked so much like _him_... But he loved her. He'd do anything for her. He was sorry, she knew he was sorry. The pain was there, but he loved her and she couldn't but file him under 'Good'.

And another face. It was like Pietro's but older, meaner, harder. His. _Father... My father..._ He had to die. Not once but twice had he taken something from her, first her childhood, her life, then the vengeful wrath that had been all she had lived for – her revenge. He had stolen them. Played with her. Made her forget. Made that little monkey-faced man take her memories and warp them, turn them into lies. They still tried to usurp the realities now, but she was stronger. She knew them for what they were. Illusions.

The hugs she had been shocked by when she felt them made sense to her now. She'd never felt them before, memories of them were false and her body knew it even if her mind believed otherwise. Her body didn't lie to her. The nightmares of cold and dark and not being able to move were true, real things that had been done to her reaching out to her where the veil between truth and lies was thinnest – the dream-state. Tastes of real food, the feeling of being warm, she understood now why they had always felt so novel to her, so new and precious. Because her body knew they were being experienced for the first time since what seemed like forever and it wanted her to enjoy them, make the most of them until it was forced to forego them for another eternity in thrall. Bathing, dressing herself, all these things she had always felt so strongly about without knowing why, felt ashamed of feeling so deeply when she knew they weren't special for others, they all made sense now. Bathing...

Another face. Blue eyes burning with life, unnaturally fiery hair sweeping into them, a smile that melted her from the inside out... John... John who had held her hands so she wouldn't hurt herslf, John who took her out to dinner for evil ducks, John who was everything she'd never felt before and who had confused her so much... Who'd kissed her and made her feel real again for the first time since she now knew her memories had been altered. John who'd stripped away the dreaming and given reality a reason to win. Who'd told her she was beautiful... The feelings associated with him hurt, but it was a pain she wanted to feel – he was so good at making her feel, truly feel. So much emotion couldn't be healthy, could it? Was it right to feel so strongly, feel everything so intensely? She felt elated. Happy. Sad. But it wasn't enough. It hadn't been enough. Kitty had been so happy, and Rogue... why not Wanda too? Maybe it was wrong, the way John mad her feel, what they'd done... She'd have to ignore it, give it up... Give up on feeling alive again... She didn't want to – she wanted to be selfish, to have it for what it was, to take it and keep it, keep him... But if it wasn't right then maybe she shouldn't. That hurt. It hurt so much she felt that she would die. Needles, loneliness, betrayal, it was all bearable but only if she could be allowed to keep wanting to feel alive. She'd tasted that now, she couldn't let it go again...

Would he let her go? Would he accept it if she said it was wrong, that she couldn't have it? Did he feel alive the way she did when he held her? He _was_ life, he was the embodiment of passion, colour, vivid and strong and _there_... She could reach out and touch him and it felt so much better... Would he accept the hatred in her now or would it drown out everything around her, the way it had before, the way it used to...

He'd said he hadn't wanted to let her go. He'd said he didn't want her to leave, that it was for her own sake. Had he meant it? But he didn't look at her the way Lance looked at Kitty, that pride and pleasure that seemed to radiate from him whenevr Kitty was around. Or the way Remy looked at Rogue, that odd sort of awe mixed with possessiveness and a hint of smugness when she spoke to him. John looked at Wanda with pain in his eyes, and a terrible aching sort of desire that wasn't purely carnal and wasn't anything else she'd ever seen. It made her tremble and made her breath catch – she knew she wanted him to look at her like that but not what it meant. But it couldn't be love. She knew she loved Freddy and Lance and the boys, she loved Pietro despite his betrayal, she wanted to love him, forgive him. She could see Kitty and Lance loved each other, and Remy and Rogue weren't far behind, their love fresh and passionate and undiscovered where Lance and Kitty settled into each other's lives in a more eternal sort of way that told of the length of their commitment. John couldn't love her though – she didn't know what love felt like but it couldn't be this aching longing feeling in the pit of her stomach or the burning warmth inside her whenever they were together. The bittersweet sensation that she could feel his touch for hours after he'd left her. It was too painful to be love, love was meant to be some joyous thing. Fairytales and TV had the right kind of idea. Love wsn't meant to hurt. Things that hurt were bad. She wasn't in love... And neither was he. If he looked at her with that searing, painful look in his eyes, he couldn't love her. If they weren't happy they couldn't love. Maybe she couldn't love lik that at all – never would. Maybe she wasn't meant to.

The faces kept coming and she sorted through them wearily, wishing they would go away and leave her in peace, but she kept returning to look at his blue eyes and the smile he'd kissed her with, and she couldn't help wishing she knew what love felt like.

_**~*************************************************************~**_

He continued to be amazed by his patients, he truly did. At about the same time as John woke up again, Wanda began to glow a faint, pleasant blue colour that spread through the med bay and tingled when you came into contact with it. The Australian former-terrorist was watching the display with an expression of apprehension on his face. The monitor above Wanda's bed registered a calmer, steadier heart-rate than it had before, and Hank smiled, pleased, as he stepped towards her and looked down at her face. Where before it had been void of expression she now had a little furrow between her brows and she no longer appeared wholly lifeless. He looked to John who had propped himself up on his elbow and was looking at her, transfixed.

"She is very pretty, isn't she son?"

"Is she alive?" Hank stared at him, surprised by the question.

"Yes, yes she is... She'll be fine..." John closed his eyes with a sigh and laid his head back on the pillow.

"Then she's beautiful..." Hank supressed a smile at that, reminding himself that he was privy to things John himself was not properly aware of, and covered it up by clearing his throat. The light around Wanda dimmed and disappeared, her face settling into calmer folds, but her breathing remained strong.

"Are you up to seeing the Professor?" John nodded.

"Talking painful, is it?" Another nod.

"Yes, it would be... It would appear you've managed to damage it somehow, there was a minor reflux of blood earlier. I don't think the damage is too severe though."

"Brilliant."

"I'll call down the Professor to speak with you then..." The youth did not respond or look at him, keeping his eyes closed, and only Hank's experience with sleeping patients in the past let him ascertain that he was in fact even still awake.

And so he was ten minutes later when Charles came in and parked by his bedside, a smile on his face.

"Mr. Allerdyce, I see you are with us once again. Feeling better, I hope?" The young man shrugged, blue eyes dim and distant, and Charles knew he was gauging how much they knew already.

"We were able to provide you with the correct medications needed to control your condition, I hope you do not mind that we took such a liberty."

"Used ta bein' medicated 'gainst m' will. Doesn' matter," John mumbled, and Charles sighed.

"You are only here because we found you unconscious outside the Brotherhood house and you proved unresponsive to all stimuli. Tests show that you have not been taking your medication lately and we feared that might have led to greater susceptibility of mental damage from Wanda's psychic projection. We brought you here to make certain that you _would_ wake up." The Australian youth didn't respond at all.

"St. John – "

"I shouldn' be 'ere," he interrupted, and Charles raised an eyebrow.

"Why not?"

"Don' belong 'ere. Don' belong anywhere. Is Wanda goin' ta be alrigh'?" Charles nodded.

"We believe so. We certainly all hope so. That is what I wished to speak with you about."

"Abou' Wanda? Ask 'er brother."

"I am asking you, St. John."

"Mum called me that... Y' know all abou' me, don' you?" Charles regarded the detached look on the boy's face with interest.

"We know enough to have been able to help you, St. John. None of us here was looking to invade your privacy at any point – all we know is what we needed to be able to help you. Keep you alive, if you will." An empty smile crept onto the lad's face.

"Don' see what use I am t' you."

"Do you wish to be of use to us? Help us?" The boy didn't speak.

"All I ask of you is that you relax and allow me to look at your memories of what happened earlier with Wanda." John flinched.

"Will it help her?"

"Maybe. We are hoping that it will." John closed his eyes and then looked over at Wanda.

"My head's not a good place ta be," he said warily, and the Professor nodded.

"I know that, St. John, but I also know that you care for Wanda's health and that you would want her to be well again. Now will you help us?"

"For her. I'll do it for her. And then I'll have ta leave you blokes," the Aussie said reasonably, and Charles looked across to Hank.

"Leave Wanda here alone?"

"She won't want me around, Prof. Trus' me."

"I see... Well then if you'll close your eyes and relax, I will see if I can gain anything from your recollection of what happened earlier, shall I?" John complied and Hank saw Charles' face settle into the familiar grooves that signalled his powers were in use.

He left the room only to be joined by Charles moments later, the other man's face expressionless, deep in thought.

"What did you learn, Charles?" His friend seemed to shake himself out of the thought process and looked up at him.

"Oh – I saw the extent of his affections for the girl and I have every reason to believe that Remy and Rogue are telling the truth. He is in love with Wanda. He is also resisting it and I could only find two reasons, one an irrational fear that she will leave him eventually which I imagine is simply residual delusion, and the other that he is certain that he will at some stage cause her pain and so he will not allow himself to get closer to her."

"Noble, if irrational."

"I believe there is a great deal of nobility to this boy, however irrational he may be. I also saw a good deal of haziness in connection to his emotions which I believe is caused by the different medications. I can well understand that he dislikes being under the influence of them, it was most unpleasant. If you can, lower the dosage a little. I saw to it that he fell asleep again but he will wake shortly. I will send down Remy and Rogue to see him when that happens..." Charles paused suddenly.

"Did you hear that?" Hank poked his head around the door to the med bay and froze.

"Charles.." Manouvering his wheelchair, Charles moved to the doorway and looked in. There, on her bed, sat the Scarlet Witch, knees drawn up to her chin and arms around herself, head bowed in John's direction, weeping bitterly.

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	26. Realisations

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing so just get a bloody biscuit and sit tight okay? Gods, you people. **_

_**(We give thanks to: TitansRule - yesh, Kitty has a serious case of Awesome and I'm glad you approve^^ Bloodypassion, what's up girl, you still love me after all my ranting and dramatic crap-pulling?? Hell if you aren't just a peachy little thang! *gives cookies* AshmandaLC, honey, if Ah had mah way, y'all would be all up in there with some fahne assorted Cajun arse and y'd be having a good tahme on my tab cos honey, y'all rock mah world an' Ah ain' even kiddin! Course I didn't forget you, how could I? 'I'm not that unstable' hehehe Laceylou76, you continue to be mah honeypie an' Ah am gettin mahself a cape, jus' f' you, so you can laugh and regret calling me Master of anythang XD LadyMageLuna, hang in there honey, I promise I'm going to make it all okay again! Anon goddess, my special girl, you know how much I love you and your amazing feedback not to mention your talent as a writer and you know I am going to give you happy endings when i'm good and ready so in the meantime I hope this makes you happy honey. Irual, you really are a sweetheart aren't you? Sorry, there was no room for Romy just here, but you got a little tiny bit of Remy in there so gimme cookies and I will Romy up the joint for you as fast as I can within plot limits! And lastly to Valnar - you haven't made it here yet, or you have and haven't let me know yet, but you reviewed a bunch of the older crap and for that I am grateful. Plus you made some good points so well done to you and carry on having a good time with this! Enjoy, people!)**_

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_**~Scarlet Letter ~**_

_**Realisations**_

_**~*************************************************************~**_

She opened her eyes slowly, the stark white of her surroundings gripping her with a terror she now knew exactly where stemmed from, and she sat bolt upright, looking around her wildly. She didn't know this place, but she wasn't strapped down and it looked so much cleaner – more modern – than the asylum had. There were monitors above her bed with squiggles on them but she didn't care about any of that. On the bed next to her lay John, eyes closed, so still and pale she couldn't but reach the conclusion that she had done something awful, something terrible... Hurt him... The tears that came were debilitating, racking her with a despair she'd never known the like of. She had never harmed anyone she knew by name, knew to be a friend. She'd never do that of her own free will. She hadn't been in control and this was the result of her inability to handle her powers. Curling in on herself and hugging her knees close to her torso she took in the enormity of it. This was her fault, all her fault. He looked so pale, so lifeless where he'd always been so intense and vibrant and she couldn't stop the tears, the crying wouldn't end –

"Wanda..?" She turned to face the voice, blinking away heavy teardrops from her lashes, her whole body pulsing with blue light. The man in the wheechair did not come any closer. He waited in the doorway for her move. Rogue's... Rogue's Professor... His Institute. He was nice. He was her father's old friend –

"Wanda, you must try and calm yourself my dear," he said reasonably, soothingly. Her eyes were tightly shut but when she opened them to look at him there were numerous medical implements floating around the room, and she let go of the energy abruptly, the harsh sounds of metallic object clattering to the floor deafening to her.

"I know that you must be feeling very confused, very upset, but I promise you, you are among friends here," he added, and she looked back to John, unable to see if he was breathing or not for the tears obstructing her view, convinced that he wasn't, that he never would again...

"He is alright, Wanda. He is going to be just fine." She turned her head towards the Professor again, torn between her desire to know for certain and the compulsion to scrutinise the apparently only unconscious Australian for lifesigns.

"May I join you?" She nodded, once, and the Professor approached in his wheelchair, parking neatly next to her, between her bed and John's. He looked at her with sympathetic, warm eyes and she hugged herself more tightly.

"You gave us all quite a fright, my dear. Your family is waiting outside for you – they will be most relieved to know that you are awake." Her eyes narrowed.

"_My – my family?_" His smile was comforting, she thought.

"Yes, the Brotherhood Of Mutants. A strange family you make, but they have been waiting for some time now to hear news of you. They are greatly concerned."

"Who..?" He seemed puzzled by her half-formed question but only showed it for the barest second.

"Fred Dukes, Todd Tolansky, Lance Alvers and your brother, Pietro." The monitor behind Wanda began to emit sparks.

"Calm yourself, my dear, if you do not wish to see him I will ensure that he leaves you be," the Professor said calmly, but she shook her head violently.

"I want them here – I want to see them – let me see – " The Professor nodded, and she fell quiet abruptly, lowering her head to her arms again.

"You may see them, of course. They'll be so glad you have woken up, my dear." She didn't see it but she heard someone behind her leaving and she threw out a hand and caught onto them with her powers, turning to see the large, blue creature that sometimes said good morning to her when she visited the Institute.

"Dr McCoy here has been taking care of you and St. John while you have been with us," the Professor explained and the furry blue man smiled at her. She released him and curved her arm back to it's position around her knees.

"He will go and inform the boys that you wish to see them."

"Rogue... Kitty.. I want them too..." The Professor nodded and smiled at her.

"They're perfectly alright as well and I am sure they'll be thrilled to see you. Shall I send them in as well?" She nodded.

"I want John to wake up. What's wrong with him?" The Professor sighed.

"You grew quite unwell, my dear, earlier on today, as the result of a series of terrible crimes committed against you in the past. You no doubt remember them perfectly now. St. John was already... somewhat under the weather and the results of your upsettance had a grave impact on him. He was awake earlier but he is very tired." She focused on John's chest, watching for the faint rise and fall that indicated breathing, and said,

"I want to see... My brother and the others, somewhere else... Can I?"

"In the other room, certainly. I will have them brought in. Shall we?"

_**~*****************************************************************~**_

He had honestly never been so frightened in his entire life. Lance and Freddy had deathgrips on both his upper arms so there was nowhere he could run to, and the Prof had said that Wanda seemed to be at peace with the idea of seeing him but he was shitting bricks. It would be so like her to pretend to be alright and then ambush him as he entered the room with those nasty hexes of hers. An uncharitable thought perhaps, but true. The corridor seemed endless and he longed to run away, the claustrophobic fear getting to him as he found it harder and harder to breathe. The door opened ad Lance pushed him in in front of him. A red-eyed Wanda sat in a big chair by a window, her hands folded in her lap, eyes downcast.

"Wands..?" Lance asked caustiously, and she looked up, her face breaking into an expression of pure misery as she held out her arms to them all, and Lance, Fred and Todd advanced as a whole and embraced her, Freddy actually lifting them for a few seconds.

"We were so worried," Freddy cried, the huge teenager's face one big tear, and Wanda reached up to pat his cheek.

"Are you okay? God, Wands, you had us so freaked out there! Don't you ever do that to me again, okay?" Lance murmured into her hair, overcome by the emotion of the moment, and Todd piped up.

"Poopsie... I missed you so much!"

"I – I missed you too... I think... It's all a bit confusing..." Wanda said with teary honesty as the boys drew back a little to let her breathe, the Professor's eyes on them smiling and full of approval.

"Pietro..." she mumbled, looking past the boys at him, and he made an odd noise.

"I don't get a hug from my own brother?" The noise turned into a choking sob and before he'd had time to think he was there, hugging her as though his life depended on it, sincerely hoping that it didn't, the worry and the stress finally cracking him completely as he broke down in his sister's arms.

"I was so – and you – and I – don't ever scare me like that again! I thought I'd lost you again, I was so scared!" She held him carefully, her hands trembling as she embraced the only true family she had left, her voice soft and full of pain.

"I was scared too, Pietro..." He pulled away to look at her and took her hands in his, his eyes hard and serious.

"I'm not ever going to let you be afraid again, okay? I'm gonna take care of you now, like I should have done. No one's ever going to take you away from me again!" She nodded as he kissed her cheek and put his arm around her, his shoulders squared against the world.

"I love you sis," he whispered, and she closed her eyes.

"I don't know what that is but I love you too..."

"Would you like to open the door for the rest of our friends, Mr. Alvers?" the Professor asked quietly, and Lance nodded and went to the door, letting in Rogue, Remy and Kitty. The two girls took one look at the scene, Wanda and Pietro' embrace, the way the 'hood boys stood around them, and flew at Wanda, their joint effort hug dislodging Pietro from his sister. He grudgingly accepted defeat and stood back to give them some air.

"Oh, sweetie I was so scared, I could feel it all and I swear I'm not gonna let anything like that happen to you ever again!" Kitty's promise was a fierce, empassioned whisper, her eyes alight, and Wanda hugged her back hard, the smaller girl's statement touching her deeply.

"Sugah, Ah thought y'all had left meh alone, Ah thought ya'd gone, don't ya ever, ever do that again!" Rogue's hug was careful but crushing all the same and her admonishing tone was cracked and strained by what Wanda knew would be tears. Remy hung back, waiting for the girls to release Wanda, and when they did he smiled at her warmly.

"Good t' have y' back, _petite_," he said sincerely, and she tried to smile in return.

"Thank you... All of you... I – can we go home now?" She looked to the Professor who shook his head.

"I'm afraid I'd like to keep you here tonight, just to be certain that you're well enough to go back home. If that's alright with your 'brothers'..?" Pietro looked to Wanda whose shoulders slumped in a picture of utter dejection, and then to the guys who were all looking at her too.

"If Wanda's okay with that then that's what we'll do – but we ain' leaving her here alone. We'll camp out on the lawn if you don' want us in the house but we won't leave her." The Professor smiled and Wanda looked up.

"Oh, no, you guys go home, I'll be fine – "

"No way. You stay, we stay." Pietro's voice was solidified finality and she reached out to give his fingers a weak squeeze.

"Thank you," she mouthed, and so it was that the Professor found places for all of them and the 'hood boys spent the night at the Institute, scattered sentinels to watch over Wanda. She tired quickly after all the excitement of their reunion and was put to bed by Dr McCoy and the girls, but Pietro hung back to speak with the Professor, his eyes constantly straying to his sister's lightly-breathing but sleeping form.

"She's gonna be okay, right? I mean, she'll make a full recovery?" Professor Xavier folded his hands in his lap and looked at him.

"Your sister is a tortured soul, Pietro. You must be all you can for her this time. She will need you more than ever now that she knows everything," he said seriously, and Pietro looked away.

"I don't deserve to have her as my sister – she's so amazing living through all of this and I wish I could have helped her, done something back then – "

"You were a child, Pietro. Only a boy. There was nothing you could have done, nothing. Your father's actions were vile and repulsive and I believe they scarred you as well as Wanda. He took away your sister, the only person you had to love." The youth's eyes clenched tight shut.

"I missed her so much... I thought – I thought she was in a school. When I found out... I wanted to help her but I didn't know where she was, I was so scared... I just wanted my sister back," he said with a heartbreaking honesty on his face. The Professor sighed.

"I know, Pietro, I do. It is Wanda who needs to be onvinced now, assured of your presence in her life. She needs you to be there and I believe you need to be to heal your own wounds, am I right?" He nodded, and Charles smiled sadly.

"It grieves me to see you this way my boy, both of you. I promise you, we will do all we can to help Wanda towards becoming a happy and fulfilled young woman."

"She didn't mention Father," Pietro said tonelessly, looking to his sister again, and Charles sighed.

"You call him that but you do not feel it. I hope dearly that Wanda will not take up her vendetta against Erik again but if she does, all I can do is ask you to aid her, to try and reason with her, and leave your father to me."

"I know she wants to kill him, but I can't let her... He's our father... And I don't want my sister to be a murderer – as bad as he is," Pietro said sadly, and Charles nodded.

"And I promise you we will do all we can to prevent such a thing from happening. Now be off with you and try to get some sleep, hmm? Your sister will want to go home tomorrow. I think she misses having you all to herself." The lad smiled at him and vanished in a flash of white hair, and Charles turned to the shadow in the corridor.

"You should be resting, my boy," he said quietly. The shadows shifted into the figure of St. John Allerdyce, who stepped forward into the light.

"Thought I'd get out now, go back and clear out my gear and bail while I still can," the young man said in tones of resignation.

"You don't want to leave though, do you?"

"I don't know what I want. Stay here and get my heart broken, or leave and do it myself. She's a peach, Prof. She's a real knock-out an' I don' deserve 'er. An' ya heard what she said... She doesn' know what love is."

"Do you?"

"I know it's meant ta make a bloke happy an' feel righ'. Wanda... Wanda's never been loved, not really... I don' care where you hide that bastard Dad of hers either, I'll find him eventually, see if I don't – but she's too good for all o' this hell an' I wan' her ta be happy. I don' think I can give her that. I don' know what it is ta be happy."

"Your emotions may not be as easy as other people's to live with, St. John, but does she not make you feel better about yourself when you are with her? I do not believe either of you have experienced love in the truest sense of the word – such love is rare – but neither do I believe that you are merely infatuated. You care for her, and I know that in your life, caring for anyone has never been easy. Why not try this time? Wanda may not know what love feels like, but can you judge her when so many emotions remain a mystery to you yourself?"

"I'm not judging her – I just – "

"You just wish that things could be different."

"I wish none of this had ever happened to her... I wish I was a better person... "

"Your affliction is not your fault, my boy. And I think that if you look into yourself and you allow yourself to be honest about this, you will see that you know the best thing for the both of you is for you to stay here, with her. She may not be able to express it, but she needs you. And I know that you need her." St. John's face was immobile but his eyes displayed his conflicted emotions and the Professor shook his head.

"Neither of you can run forever, St. John. Neither of you were meant to run."

"Then what am I meant ta do? Wait around while I get worse an' she realises the real nutter is me? Watch her get better and know she won' ever be able ta feel things righ'?"

"All Wanda needs is to be shown how. And what. And you need to stand and fight for a change. That's what you were meant for." He turned his wheelchair and began to move away when he heard the,

"Alright. I'll try." And he nodded in acknowledgement and said over his shoulder,

"Then I would start with being there when she wakes up. Good night, St. John."

He resumed his retreat and carried on towards the bowels of the Institute to see if Erik had left yet. They had an accord that he would leave for a time, go into self-made exile to allow everyone time to heal and to think over the mistakes he had made, and right enough when Charles go there, his room was empty and a letter was lying on the desk in a crisp white envelope adressed simply 'CX'. It read:

_Dear Charles,_

_I have decided to honour our agreement and by the time you read this I shall be on my way to Europe. I shan't tell you where I plan to go, only that I do not intend to make my whereabouts public in any sense of the word and I do not intend to disturb neither you nor my children again. In my lifetime I have done many things which I am certain count as sinning in the eyes of the Lord, and I have certainly been guilty of both the sins of Pride and of Avarice. I have lusted long after the superiority of our kind from the belief that we were indeed superior and my single-minded selfishness has cost me my children, the respect of our brethren, and your friendship._

_I am guilty of destroying so much in my quest to build a new world for us and our kind, sacrificing my own flesh and blood to further my own ends. Through the eyes of Apocalypse, I witnessed what would come about if I continued down this path and I have tried to repent of it. My children shall never forgive me and I am not worthy of their forgiveness. I ask that you watch over them, Charles, and make certain that they watch over each other. To help them as I never did and never will. In my way, I have loved them, but they will always know that I loved my cause more still than I could ever love another human being and perhaps that is for the best._

_I would that I had done things differently. But you and I both know that hindsight is always more clear than present events, or our dreams for the future, and they cloud our minds and cause us to misjudge and be misled by our own desires._

_I hope that some day they will find peace. And that your dreams will be realised, my old friend._

_I remain, an old fool,_

_Erik._

He folded the letter carefully, replaced it in it's envelope and tucked it away in his inner breast pocket before turning his wheelchair and leaving the room in silence. He hoped for old friendship's sake that the letter spoke the truth, for he feared that else his visions of the future were indeed all too clear.

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	27. And So It Begins

_**DISCLAIMER: If I owned any of this I'd be suing Marvel for using without permission. I'd also be filthy rich and able to afford hand transplants. So clearly, I don't. **_

**_(Ladies and Other Creatures, this is your Author speaking. Welcome to Fiction Odin Only Knows How Many from Chapters One until Whenever I See Fit To End It. We shall be starting at a OMFG level of roughly ten cookies, going up to a level of twelve and a half cookies if we encounter anything dramatic. Your Co-Author today is a tube of local anaesthetic and an insane will to type. As some of you know, I was silly enough to sustain rather large and annoying chemical burns to my hands the day before yesterday which is why this update is by my own standards shockingly late. Burns being what they are make doing everything and anything very difficult and they refuse to close up due to other medical issues I unfortunately have to live with. Therefore we are operating by the aforementioned insane will to type for you people and the good graces of the local anaesthetic my hands are currently slathered in. Now, to the thanks: Anon goddess, who was kind enough to tell me to take a break, honey I did but I had to update, it was eating away at me I'm sorry... LadyMageLuna you are a star and I hope you're doing well and that you enjoy this. Laceylou76, hope you didn't miss me too much and that this doesn't disappoint. Irual, hope you enjoy this too. Bloodypassion you continue to be a sweetie, hope you like this well enough. TitansRule hope I enlightened you in my reply, I certainly did my best and I hope you like this, let me know. Valnar, thanks a bunch, hope you got my reply, it's embarassing as all hell but when I was hitting send a wound cracked and out poured an interesting amount of ooze that needed immediate attention so I ended up smacking the keys and I hope your reply reached you, if not, excuse me and let me know, okay, I'll get right on it. Sweetest Symphony, likewise I hope you got my reply, if not let me know, and you're new aren't you so welcome and thanks for reviewing, hope you like this and please tell me^^ Rogue-scholar07 here it is, hope you excuse my lateness and let me know how you get on. All of you, I apologise, circumstances and bla bla bla, things were rough there for a while but I carry on endangering my healing for you lot so you better bloody well review. If you like. Seriously. Come on now.)_**

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_**~Scarlet Letter~**_

_**And So It Begins.**_

_**~***********************************************************~**_

The nightie she had borrowed from Rogue was flame red and silky soft, falling in waves from her hips and pooling a little around her feet. Kitty had offered her a loan of her clothes but they weren't the same size and Wanda had never liked pastel colours so she had declined on the grounds of the size and Rogue had stepped in and offered the garment she was now wearing.

"Ah know how red makes ya feel better," she'd said softly, smiling as she'd handed it over, and it did. The dress also fit like a dream, which helped. The face looking back at Wanda in the mirror was scrubbed clean now – the makeup from before that had smudged and run completely gone, and her skin was a dewy white. Her eyes were red-rimmed still, hours of crying had taken their toll, but it didn't matter. She felt strange walking from the little bathroom to the med bay again, the clinical feel of the place unsettling for her, and she cast her eyes over to the other bed where John had been earlier. He was gone. She hoped that he had left of his own free will, that he had been awake and well. Dr McCoy had been very kind and told her everything she asked to know regarding her projection and how it had affected the rest of them, the rest of mankind, even. She had cried for them, but she hadn't the strength to cry anymore. The atmosphere of the med bay sapped her energy as surely as any sedative she had ever been given in the asylum, and she sat on the edge of her bed and wrapped her arms around herself. Nothing smelled right. Nothing felt right. She wanted desperately to go home, to sleep in her own bed in her own room with her candles lit and her music playing. Her house that smelt like laundry and food and her 'family'. The Professor had called them her family, the boys, and she supposed to some extent it was true. They were her brothers. It felt wrong knowing that they were enduring this night in strange, uncomfortably unfamiliar surroundings just to be nearer her. She felt guilty. And cold. And...

He sat down beside her, warm and solid, and she looked up, arms loosening around herself, half expecting it to be Lance or Pietro even though she knew it wasn't. He wasn't looking at her, his eyes shadowed, downcast, hair even messier than usual, and she felt guilty for that as well for some reason.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, and he turned his head a little and looked at her, his eyes as warm as the rest of him.

"What for?"

"Everything..." His question was confusing her. Almost as though there was nothing at all to feel guilty about, like he had nothing he could think of that she might be wanting to apologise for.

"There isn' anythin' ta be sorry about, luv."

"I killed people..." He smiled at her, sadly, sweetly.

"You didn' do anything on purpose, luv. You're innocent. It wasn' your fault."

"I feel so..." She had been so certain that she had no more tears left, but now they came over her again and when he put his arms around her she leant into them, slipping her own around his waist and crying into his shoulder, wishing she could just stop, not wanting him to see this.

"It's okay luv... It's okay... You didn' do it on purpose... You didn' know..." He stroked her hair and let her cry, holding her to him and feeling his heart break with every hitch of her breath, anger welling up in him for all the wrongs that had been done to her, had forced her into this unwilling role of murderess when really, she was the only victim he could see.

"I don't know why I feel so guilty..." she whispered and he sighed and pressed his lips to her hair, wishing he could make her feel just a little better.

"Because you're a good person, luv... You 'ave a heart, unlike some people. You care abou' others an' ya want them to be happy and safe... I know you didn't wan' any o' this and I know it hurts but ya can' blame yourself, it's not your fault... Please don' blame yourself..." She looked up at him, eyes full of tears, and he felt that if she'd just smile, if she would just smile once, everything would be fine again.

"Why are you here with me? I almost killed you..."

"I'm here because I want ta be here. And the good doctor wants me ta stay the night, jus' like you..." Her face fell and she looked down at the tear stains she had made on his black Tshirt.

"Hey..." He tilted her chin up so she would face him again, but her eyes slid away to look at the wall and he smiled.

"Even if I didn' need ta stay here, I wouldn' leave you here alone, okay? Ya have ta know that, Wanda." She looked him in the eye and he fell into hers without a second thought.

"You'd stay here... for me?"

"_With_ you, unless they dragged me away kickin' an' screamin' a' course," he grinned at her to ease the moment and she smiled, a ghost of a smile, barely there but still beautiful.

"I'm sorry about... everything that happened... " He knew full well what 'everything' entailed.

"It's okay... It's been a bad day for you, you don' have to apologise fer anythin'..." It was true, he didn't care for apologies. There really was nothing to apologise for. What he wanted was to hear that she didn't regret it.

"Dr McCoy said... you were already having a bad day... when I... " she trailed off, the sentence leaving a clear opening for him to shuffle off all responsibility and take the coward's way out. But he'd promised...

"I've got a few issues, luv," he began slowly, not knowing exactly how to begin the speech that would decide his fate.

"The voices," she supplied, and he nodded,

"Right, them, and a coupla other bits an' bobs. I get... I have... I have hallucinations. An' when I do, the voices in my head – they get angry, and they – they tell me ta do stuff – and – " her face was so open, so innocent, so ready to accept anything he told her, and he hated himself for having to.

"And I can' always fight them. I'm not myself when I'm having them – I'm a different person - a right bastard – and I... I hate that part of myself. I can' control it an' I pretend it's not there, but when it is, I... I just... I do really stupid things. An' I can't feel things the way I should. Things that hurt make me laugh. Things that usually feel good hurt. And I'm shit scared, because the last little part of me that's still normal knows and I can't do anything about it... I'm just... trapped in my own head... So I lie about it and people just assume I'm a bit off... And... " Her hand on his cheek brought his eyes up to meet hers again, and he saw the understanding there. It should have been a heal-all to him, instead it felt like another wound was being carved into his heart.

"I know..." she said softly, her pale fingers cool and gentle as she pushed them through his hair, and he sighed.

"I don't care, John... I'm glad you told me but it doesn't matter... You didn't lie to me, you admitted you were hearing things, you told me, so it doesn't matter... You're not – you wouldn't – I trust you, okay?" she wasn't looking at him properly, seemed to be focusing on the contrast between her hand and his hair instead. It was distracting. It brought things back.

"I told you about the shadows, and the dreams – memories – " she corrected herself quickly, closing her eyes for a moment before continuing.

"And you're not a bad person... You were honest with me and you were nice to me... You weren't afraid of me like the others..."

"Only thing I'm afraid of is myself, and what comes with being me, luv," he said sincerely, and she smiled sadly.

"I know the feeling," she said, and he reached up and took her hand, spreading her fingers out and laying it flat against his.

"I'm sorry I didn' tell you everythin' before."

"You didn't have to. It was your secret to tell. I didn't need to know – everyone has things they want to pretend don't exist... Ghosts... I trusted you before. I trust you now. You never hurt me before..." He looked at her with an undisguised self-loathing.

"But I could. I could hurt you, Wanda. Maybe not even physically, but there are so many other ways ta hurt someone and when I'm not in control I know them all..." She smiled at him and leant her head on his shoulder.

"I'm the one who almost killed you, John... And if you did do something... It wouldn't be your fault... When I'm angry it isn't my fault. Pietro always says it's just an accident and we pretend it didn't happen when I break things or things start floating or whatever..."

"Your brother loves you, Wanda. He wants you ta be 'appy and he knows all that anger just makes things worse so he tries ta make it easier on you," John said, and she smiled.

"I know... I know that now... But the point is that I have accidents too... But most of the time it's okay... So if you're okay most of the time... the accidents don't matter..." He could feel that she was trying to do for him what Pietro did for her, explain it, make it better, make it less than it was, and he couldn't keep his hold on all the reasons why sitting here with her was wrong. He felt it ebbing away, almost as though her words were corrosive to his beliefs, wearing them down until they seemed pale, shadowy, flawed things not worth keeping.

"You said my accidents didn't matter because I didn't do it on purpose. Then yours don't either. You don't do things on purpose, you can't help it. You can't blame yourself..." And there it was. Her ace in the hole. He couldn't argue with it because to argue was to admit that what he'd told her earlier wasn't true – was just an effort to cheer her up. He wanted to argue. He wanted to blame himself. But he couldn't do that to her. She'd caught him.

"Then I won', luv..." She smiled again and leaned against him, putting her arm around his waist and breathing deeply.

"Wanda... you're falling asleep..." She crinkled her nose.

"No I'm not..." she protested, but her eyes were closed and she sounded incredibly tired. He detached himself from her and tipped her legs up onto her bed, laying her head on her pillow as gently as he could before sitting next to her and letting himself stroke her hair away from her face. She looked at him tiredly.

"Don't leave me..." she asked, and he felt a strange tearing sensation inside. He wanted to stay. But he couldn't.

"I can't sit here all nigh', luv, McCoy will be havin' kittens if he comes in tomorra' an' sees that," he reasoned, and she frowned.

"Then lie down... I don't want you to leave me... I don't like hospitals..." He hesitated, eyes closed, inner battle raging.

"Please, John..." It was all over for him the moment his name left her lips, he knew he couldn't refuse her anything she asked. Lifting her a little and adjusting his own position next to her he moved her so that her head was pillowed on his shoulder and he was lying next to her, and she raised her arm to curl it around his waist, a little smile on her face as she sighed softly.

"Good night, John..." she said, sleep sweeping in to carry her away, and he looked down at her, cradled against him like that, and silently thanked the Professor for talking him into staying. He couldn't have borne leaving if it had meant not being allowed to have this.

_**~***********************************************************~**_

He woke by the hand of Dr McCoy descending on his shoulder and realised then that he hadn't really been asleep, merely dozing. The smile on the blue-furred man's face told of secrets and the keeping thereof, and he nodded briefly and sat up, moving Wanda carefully off him so as not to disturb her rest. The doctor pointed to the door and moved away, indicating he wished John to follow him, and he did so with some trepidation. Despite the friendly smile on the older man's face, he knew they probably had rules in this place against sleeping with a member of the opposite sex in your arms all night.

"So, son, she sleep all right did she?" Dr McCoy asked once he'd closed the door behind them, and John nodded.

"We had a chat an' then she nodded off. Abou' that – she and I – she didn' wan' ta be alone an' I couldn' leave 'er. She was cryin'..." bending the truth only slightly but enough to be allowed to get away with things was a talent. He had it in abundance. The doctor's smile widened.

"I'm glad you were there, then. It would come as no surprise certainly that the young lady is less than fond of places like this," he said reasonably, and John nodded, distracted.

"She told me she fel' better. She felt guilty, but we talked abou' that an' I think... I think she understands now."

"That this was not her fault, you mean? Yes, Charles spoke of her guilt. Completely misplaced, of course, she has nothing to feel bad about. She's the victim in all of this terrible business!"

"That's what I told her – withou' using the word 'victim'. It's not Wanda's thing," John explained, warming to the doctor's approach, and smiling a little.

"Good man! I knew it would be good for her to talk things through with someone – someone who understands." He glanced knowingly at John who shrugged.

"I think I understand more than I knew before... Thanks fer lettin' me stay with 'er."

"Son, if you hadn't volunteered we would have worked around it," McCoy said briskly, and John raised an eyebrow.

"What – strapped me down?" the twinkle in the doctor's eye belied his former briskness.

"If we had to, possibly," he said jovially, and John grinned.

"She'll want to go home, ya know."

"So she shall my boy, so she shall! She seemed well enough yesterday and she's got about the right lack of colour in those cheeks today so I see no reason why she shouldn't go home – provided those boys take care of her..." John chuckled.

"I think she'll have a hard time makin' 'em stop takin' care of 'er ta be honest!"

_**~*************************************************************~**_

The X-kids were well out of the way – Logan deciding the best way to move on with life and restore normality to the everyday routine was to put them through a gruelling, specially dreamt-up Danger Room session – so the 'hood boys had room to breathe in the mansion while Dr McCoy did some final tests on Wanda.

"I can go home today, right?" she asked carefully, and the jolly blue doctor smiled at her and nodded.

"Oh yes, my dear, certainly! You seem so much better today. As long as the boys make sure you get plenty of rest and you don't use your powers too much over the next few days I don't see why you shouldn't be just fine. Shock can be very hard on the body you know," he said professionally, and she nodded.

"Can – can I go and see them?"

"No no dear, they'll be in in a minute, Ororo was just overseeing breakfast. I gather they insisted on seeing you first and she had to be firm with them." Wanda smiled privately.

"You have to be sometimes," she said, her voice quiet and oddly sentimental.

"My dear – please forgive me if this is overstepping your boundaries, I would understand perfectly, but I feel I must ask – did something especially distressing take place between young St. John and yourself? The poor boy seemed guiltier than the whole Brotherhood put together and I feel certain it added to the length of his recovery...." he could tell by the subtle changes in her expression that this hit the mark, and he decided to press it home.

"You know that in many ways, he is a great deal more fragile than one might assume..." Wanda turned tear-filled eyes to meet his and he felt compelled to put a large blue hand over her clasped ones, reassuringly.

"Oh, my poor girl... You know that is there is anything you wish to unload, anything you wish to share, I am bound by oath to keep it strictly between the two of us. Anything you tell me will be kept secret on my part. And I assure you, at this stage, letting go of a few burdens might be the very thing you need, my dear..." She smiled at him, a grateful, watery smile.

"I just don't know what I'm doing," she said quietly.

"I feel so many things but I don't know what they are and then when I think I know by watching others who say they feel the same things, I get confused because they clearly don't and I end up even less certain than I was before... I see other people happy and I think happiness is exactly what they say it is but it feels wrong when they describe it... It's all so confusing..."

He looked at her with silent understanding and she hitched another deep breath and expelled,

"And I'm afraid that I don't know what love really feels like..." He squeezed her right hand and looked at her with very wise eyes.

"My dear girl, love is an abstract emotion that causes feelings of desire, happiness, sadness, lust, grief, envy and sometimes even hatred in us. I have witnessed the love you feel for Rogue and Kitty, your good friends, are they not?" She nodded hesitantly.

"And the way you and your brother and indeed the rest of the Brotherhood Boys get on, that too is a form of love. But I am guessing you mean the other kind, the love between two people that, say, Lance shares with Kitty?" She nodded again, her face taking on a creamy peach colour by way of blushing.

"My dear, that is something that comes to all of us. It can be painful, it can be glorious, most of the time it is an uneven mixture of the two, but the surest thing is that if you think it is there, it likely is, in some form or another. And luckily, it is something that you have plenty of time to discover. Your life is only just beginning, Wanda... Perhaps you should allow it to begin with people who understand you and who may be beginning themselves?" She smiled at him.

"Thank you doctor," she said shyly, and he beamed at her.

"Any time my dear. Now, shall we get those boys in here?"

_**~*************************************************************~**_

Remy and Rogue had been allowed to join the Brotherhood for breakfast, such as it was, and they'd agreed to help Ororo with whatever she needed helping with, which meant disciplining the boys, but really the only thing they needed to do was ask them to quieten down every once in a while and tell them that they couldn't go and see Wanda just yet, that she would come to them. So here they were, in the med bay, being lectured along with the boys on how to keep Wanda as calm as possible and that she was not allowed to do anything strenuous or stressful for a good long while. This meeting culminated in Freddy insisting he carry Wanda out and down the stairs to wait for Pietro to roll up in Lance's jeep, and Wanda insisting she could walk by herself and being voted down by Lance and Todd which meant that Freddy got to carry the infamous Scarlet Witch resplendent in a borrowed black Iron Maiden hoodie and a pair of ripped cargos courtesy of Rogue's wardrobe over the mansion's threshold, albeit the wrong way.

Kitty and Rogue would not be joining them straight off as Wolverine had insisted on Half-Pint and Stripes at least hanging around the mansion until lunch time when he'd get off Danger Room with the X-kids and enjoy his one-hour break before putting them through the outdoors obstacle course. Kitty was apprehensive about letting Lance leave like that after all that had happened, but Logan had assured her that he'd drive her over to the 'hood house himself once he was done talking to them since he had a few things to go over with Wanda. Rogue had lost track of Remy's whereabouts since he slipped from her side after helping Ororo clean up after breakfast and disappeared in a most disconcerting way, but she assumed he was either talking to the Professor or John and didn't give it much thought. Instead, she and Kitty were now stood next to Lance's jeep hugging Wanda goodbye and reassuring her that they'd be over to visit in a couple of hours.

"Now ya take it easy sugah, and if any o' these lazy asses give ya any lip y'all just call us an' we'll be raght over, okay?" Wanda smiled gratefully at her friends from her seat next to Lance – Pietro had speeded on ahead to clean up the house for Wanda's return – and waved her hand.

"I'll be fine, you guys don't have to worry," she said softly, and Kitty fixed Lance with a beady eye and the patented Kitty Pryde Finger Of Accusation.

"Lance Alvers you treat Wanda like a princess because you know she's gonna like, totally tell me everything you guys do later when I come round!" she said seriously, and he blew her a cocky kiss.

"Don't stress it Kitten. I'll see you tonight, okay?" She giggled and winked at him.

"Okay, drive safely..." she cooed, and Todd rolled his eyes.

"Can we get movin', yo? Ma Projectin' Princess can' be sittin' out here all day!" he said haughtily, and Wanda raised an eyebrow.

"I should hex you but Doctor McCoy asked me not to use my powers so I'll save that one for later," she muttered, and Todd smiled winningly.

"Aw, Cuddlebumps, I know ya love it really," he said with an odd pride in his voice. Kitty assumed it was because he knew he was getting away with it.

"Right, good bye time is so over, let's get this show on the road!" Lance said loudly, cutting across the annoyed glare Wanda shot Todd and what they were certain were more comments from the grey-skinned mutant boy, and started his jeep, diving away at a moderate pace to allow for waving time. Kitty had taught him the importance of waving time. If she didn't have time to wave for at least a good twenty seconds, she got very shirty, as Pyro would put it. Shirtiness was never a good thing.

Rogue turned to Kitty who seemed satisfied with her allotted waving time, and grinned at her.

"Ya know y'all are such a _couple_, it's so sweet," she teased, and Kitty sighed dreamily.

"I know, isn't it great?" Rogue rolled her eyes.

"Has it's moments."

"Hey... Where'd your tall, dark and klepto run off to?" Kitty asked, shaking off the dreaminess and becoming her usual observant self. Rogue shrugged.

"With the Professor, Ah think. Why?"

"No reason – just wondered how he managed to get off the leash long enough to get out of eyeshot," Kitty giggled, and Rogue glared at her.

"That is so not funny!" Kitty pouted and Rogue caved.

"Okay, it's kinda funny... But ya know it ain' mah fault he's always there – it's just all really new, an' – an' kinda scary, ya know?" The last part called for lowered, tentative voices, and Kitty nodded sympathetically.

"I _totally_ know what you're going through. I mean, when Lance and I first started this thing, I like, totally couldn't let him out of my _sight_, but it was, like, so _weird_ having all those feelings at once. Got kinda confusing let me tell you! I think the first couple of weeks are really the hardest..." Rogue looked intrigued. Kitty elaborated.

"Okay, you know how me and Lance were kinda thrown together by, like, all those weird things going on at the time?" Rogue nodded knowingly.

"Well, I knew he was like this _total_ bad boy and it wasn't such a good idea but he was _totally_ cute and I couldn't _not_ go for it," Kitty giggled, and Rogue laughed at her.

"Yeah, Ah get that part jus' fahne sugah," she said with another eye-roll, this one purposefully comical, and Kitty smiled and nodded.

"Right, so like, I thought _that_ was why I went for it, and I totally had it all figured out. I wanted a fling with the bad boy, like, slumming it or whatever – "

"Oh mah Gawd Kit, ya little slut!" Kitty just giggled again.

"Shut _up_, you would have done the same thing!" Rogue considered this.

"Fair play to ya. Go on." Kitty wrinkled her nose in her equivalent of triumph and continued.

"But then I, like, got _behind_ the bad boy thing and I started thinking about Lance as like, a _person_, not just a piece of ass – " Rogue's face was one big exclamation mark and Kitty rolled her eyes.

"Okay, get _over_ this already?" Rogue held up both hands in a defensive gesture and Kitty went on.

"And I totally wanted him around, like, _all the time_, but I couldn't get why it felt suffocating, because it totally did but it was so great at the same time – and then when I stopped feeling like I _needed_ to totally keep tabs on him like, all the time and just let it happen, I like, realised that we were _supposed_ to be together like, all the time. You have to wait for that whole rush to blow over, like, it's like being totally _addicted_ to this one person and once that ends you see if it's really going to like, last." Rogue nodded slowly, and she opened her mouth then pursed her lips as though wanting to sort the words perfectly before speaking them.

"So, lahke, the first few weeks are – a trial period? To see if it's just lust or whatever?" Kity nodded emphatically and put her arm around Rogue in a conspiratorial manner.

"The first few weeks you make out and you hang out, but once that's over you'll see if there's really anything between you. Like, if you have stuff in common, if you can handle all his weird habits, if you totally hate his hair, whatever, all that stuff. If it doesn't bother you once you feel like you can totally be apart for more than a few hours without needing to touch each other, then it's the real deal."

"Lance and you ever have a rough patch?" Kitty sighed dreamily.

"Lance is like, my dream boy, I _totally_ love him and he's _so_ great. He bothers me sometimes but we always make up and I really think we could be together in like, years from now. But sure, we've _totally_ had problems. Like, communication is _not_ Lance's strong point and we misunderstand each other _a lot_. We need to work on that. There's always gonna be _something_, Rogue, it's never _perfect_. But the stuff that is, if that like, outweighs the not-so-perfect, then you know it's right..." Rogue nodded, hiding beneath her bangs, and Kitty gave her a light squeeze.

"Why? Something feel wrong between you and Remy?" Rogue sighed and turned her gaze to Kitty's open, interested face.

"Ah jus' feel... Insecure, Kit. Ah'm worried that he'll get tahred of meh an' mah issues an' fahnd some otha girl... Let's face it – if he sticks around here there's gonna be a lot of girls around him. An' he's got history..." Kitty nodded, a thoughtful look in her eyes.

"You think he like, just wants what he can't have?" Rogue nodded, a light pink flush in her cheeks that Kitty knew was Rogue's blushing look.

"Oh, baby, if he like, did _just_ want that, then why does he look at you the way he does? I mean, I'd bet good money that he is like, _this_ close to starting some kind of weird cult in your name, and he did go through all of that stuff for you..."

"Ah know, but... Ah've never had a real boyfriend, Kit. Ah put the first boy Ah ever really danced with in a coma because he touched mah arm. Ah thought Ah couldn' have a boyfriend, Ah thought Ah'd never be able ta fahnd anyone who'd jus' accept mah mutation an' live with it. Maybe even help me with it. And then he comes along an' ya gotta admit, he's hot!" Kitty nodded.

"He totally is," she agreed, and Rogue threw her arms in the air.

"Ah know, ragh'?! So what does he wan' with a girl lahke me when he could be off somewhere with the next Scarlett O'Hara an' both pockets full o' diamonds? Ah jus' don' get it!"

"Well... you're like, totally gonna hate me for this, but you know you're like, totally hot, right? I so understand why he'd go for you. You look great and I know I'm always trying to like, get you to shop with me and wear pink or whatever, but this look works for you and you're like totally sexy in that mysterious kind of way! Wanda pulls it off too. You both look so cool and – _older_, I guess. And I think Remy likes that, that you do your own thing."

"But he could fahnd any hot Goth chick anywhere who's her own woman an' jus' go for that! He can' touch me the way... the way you guys can, Kit..." Kitty smiled and lowered her voice.

"I really don't think he _cares_, Rogue. I think he's been sneaking around for so long and telling himself he doesn't deserve you that just talking to you and standing next to you is enough for him..." Rogue flushed a little again.

"Yeah, Ah – Ah know – but – but it won't be enough forever, will it Kit?"

"Baby, I always told you; you are _totally_ gonna find a way to deal with your powers. Maybe you just need this extra motivation!"

"Maybe..." Rogue's voice was unsure but her eyes danced.

"And I think you deserve to enjoy the attention for a while... Once the first stages pass, you can see if you still feel it." Rogue pulled the smaller girl into a very sudden hug, and Kitty reciprocated, the Goth whispering in her ear, frightened, sounding so very young.

"What if Ah end up enjoyin' it too much an' he get's tahred of it?" Kitty hugged her back even harder.

"If he, like, breaks your heart we'll just have to hunt him down and kill him for you. I won't let him, like, dump my best friend. That is so not cool!" Rogue drew back, a tear twinkling in the corner of her eye, and she wiped it away quickly.

"Thanks fer bein' mah friend, Kit." She said softly, and Kitty made a dismissive gesture.

"Pysh! _Best_ friend, Rogue, like, how many times? _Best_ friend!"

_**~*****************************************************************~**_

"So, how do you feel about my offer – our offer?" Charles corrected himself in time and the young man sitting opposite him smiled disarmingly. Charles, however, knew better than to be disarmed.

"Remy tinks dat maybe y' wan' dis more f' _ma petite Rogue_ den f' _moi_, is he righ'?" Charles made a grudging sound and said,

"I will admit that I am somewhat amazed at the level of trust she seems to place in you despite your formal acquaintance having been so short, and of course, my wish that she continue to grow and blossom into the young woman she has potential to be is a factor in my offer to you. Will you accept?" Remy shrugged, seemingly bored, but Charles knew he was far from it. Perhaps not quite intrigued but interested certainly.

"I may have a few... misapprehensions, y' understand," he said pleasantly, shuffling a deck of cards with one hand and noticing the way Charles looked at the deftly moving fingers.

"_Pardon, professeur_, just a habit o' mine," he grinned and tucked them away – Charles knew not where.

"Quite, I understand," Charles said, in answer to the young man's statement rather than his assurances that he didn't mean to blow the mansion to kingdom come on a whim. Not that he had thought he would, but teeneagers were volatile at best. Which brought up another issue.

"Now, I have not been able to find any records that state your age, social security number, any of these things, and of course I am willing to place my faith in you and assume that whatever you tell me is the truth, but for the sake of any future cooperation between us Remy, whether or not you choose to accept my offer, I should like you to tell me the truth under any circumstances. If only so that I feel... more at ease with yours and Rogue's friendship." The young man considered him, his red eyes pulsing slightly, and Charles thought he detected mild amusement in them before they hardened again.

"Y' won' find any records on me, _professeur_. _Mon pere_ saw t' dat. No social security number, no notin'. Y' know m' name, y' know what I do – well, some of it," he chuckled, a rich, pleasant sound, and Charles raised an eyebrow.

"_Oh, non, non, non, monsieur Xavier_, Remy won' tell y' no secrets – y' don' need t' know ev'rytin'. Y' know what y' need t' know already."

"So your age and current place of residence you do not find important enough to share with me?"

"If ole Remy tole y' he was twenty five, y'd believe him. If he wen' as low as eighteen, same applies. Remy don' play by de rules, _professeur_. Dat's one reason why I'm sore tempted t' decline y' gracious offer," the Cajun said matter-of-factly, and Charles steepled his fingers, as he was wont to do.

"I see... Remy, we are an open community here, but we are home to a good many minors at the present time, and while the older students are allowed a greater freedom than the younger ones, we do ask that all our students play by the rules. Both the rules of the state and this institution. Now, of course, the adult students are not required to do anything except abide by their own laws and try to set a good example for the younger students. Now, Rogue is eighteen and will soon be nineteen, therefore she is of course allowed a great deal of freedom – I know that Logan may not always find it easy to accept, but she truly is. If you are in fact old enough to act alone without the need of any legal guardian then all I ask is that you respect the rules of this Institute and try to show the teachers the proper respect. Ororo, myself and Logan, and of course Dr McCoy. Dealing with all of these teenagers can be difficult enough. If they sense that there may be a chance to undermine authority the battle will be truly lost"

The Cajun's smile was amused now, and he spread his hands wide in a gesture of innocence that almost had Charles believing it. Almost.

"_Professeur_, can we not say dat Remy gives it a shot, non? A trial period, see how dat works out. I don' need lookin' after, I don' need t' go t' school – in fact, I refuse t' do so, I know what I need t' know. _Mon cours des études, c'est fini,_ an' I passed wit' honours."

"Your education as a thief, you mean?"

"_Oui_." Charles sighed.

"You do know that I cannot condone any illegal behaviour while you are residing here?" Remy nodded.

"_Oui, mais en ce qui me concerne, je m'en fiche. _You would never know anyway so why are we discussing dis, hmm?" Charles sighed.

"You are not making this any easier for me, Remy. All I need to know is, will you appear to abide by the rules of this mansion, this Institute?" Remy grinned.

"_Je promesse_, it will never trace back t' y, dat's even better," he said with the hint of a laugh in his voice, and Charles knew he would have to settle for that.

"Very well. How long a trial period do you feel is necessary for you to know your position?" Remy shrugged.

"Three weeks?" The young man nodded and rose, extending his hand to Charles, who took it and shook twice, firmly.

"Oh, and Remy?"

"_Oui?_"

"I hope you won't mind aiding myself and Rogue in her development for your stay..." The grin on the Cajun's face became almost blissful.

"_Oh, professeur, je le ferai volontiers!_"

_**~*****************************************************************~**_

He hadn't gone back yet. He was in effect skulking around waiting for Remy to finish whatever he was doing with the Professor so they could be off. He'd promised Hank that he would run into town and fetch his prescriptions like a good little patient so that they wouldn't have to worry about him having any more episodes. As if. But Remy had agreed to take him so he had to go. Unfortunately, that meant waiting in the hall unti his Cajun chauffeur had time to take him there and ferry him home afterwards. And even more unfortunately, this meant being right in the line of fire when the entire disgruntled pack of X-kids disembarked the elevator from their Danger Room session and entered the hall each intent on one of two things, food or a quick nap before their outdoors session began. Logan was not with them. Neither, it seemed, was any form of luck nor common sense.

"... cannot believe he scheduled them this close together, I mean... Eeeeeek!" He hadn't the foggiest what this particular X-kid's problem was, his first thought being that perhaps the kid had seen a mouse, for the slightly singed-looking girl of some dark-skinned, dark-haired ethnic group squealed like the devil was at her heels and clutched onto one of the lads present, a blonde fellow who fairly reeked of false bravado.

"Oh my God, it's one of them!" one of the other girls cried, and the blonde boy whom John had accurately predicted would be trouble with so many young girls present, conjured icy spikes around his hands and stood in front of the rest of them.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded agressively, and John sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Waitin' fer Remy," he said with infinite patience, looking at the girl half-hiding behind the annoyance with the blonde hair whose hands flared up with something that looked and smelled fiery. How interesting.

"That other Acolyte dude the Rogue brought back?"

"The very same," he nodded, both hands in his pockets and trying to look unthreatening.

"'Cept we're not Acolytes anymore. There's no such thing. I'm Switzerland now," he joked, and the blonde boy sneered in what John recognised as the universal look for the mentally challenged hormonally driven which meant 'I've no idea what you're on about, but I don't like you'. How exceedingly aggravating.

"You're what?"

"Neutral. I'm sure you'll get to that part in Geography or History at some point, don't worry," he said in a strained but friendly tone, and the girl huffed and the flaring extended above her elbows. He wondered briefly if he could put it out and whether that would hurt her.

"Amara! Bobby! What on earth do you think you are doing?" John looked across to see a tall, elegant woman with dark skin and snowy hair walk into the hall with a very angry expression on her face.

"We were just – "

"They were just – "

"I don't care! You are wasting your time off standing around here threatening guests in this house! Go to your rooms at once and change your uniforms. Out!" They vanished like fog on a hot summer's day, and the woman turned a smile on him that was indeed very lovely.

"John Allerdyce, is it? My name is Ororo – you might know me as Storm. I hope the children weren't too rude..." She shook his hand and he smiled at her, politely shaking back.

"No, think they've just got a little too much rivalrous spirit in 'em," he said in a tone that implied that he didn't mind at all when in fact he was seething inwardly and would have loved to give them all third degree burns in nasty places that would be tricky to heal.

"Good, I'm glad you didn't take it too personally. I had hoped they had learned their lesson after last night. This early session with Logan was to punish them for being rude to the Brotherhood last night, you see," she said mildly, and he smiled.

"Guess it's only fair. Not too big on discipline myself but I know when ta be rude an' when ta be quiet," he said honesty, and she laughed.

"Waiting for someone?"

"Remy. He's taking me to pick up a few things and then coming back home with me."

"Ah yes, you live with the Brotherhood now. Yes, Charles mentioned it. I believe our Kitty was singing your praises the other night as well – you drove her home?"

"Oh, that. Yeah, figured a bloke can' jus' leave a little Sheila ta fend for herself like that," he grinned, and she smiled wryly.

"Our young ladies are quite capable of taking care of themselves, but I do believe you won Logan over a little when he heard what you had done for the girl. He is almost as rivalrous as our youngest students..."

"Don't listen to a word she says, firebug, she's jus' tryin' to get on your good side – and don't accept any baked goods from her either – she'll steal your soul!" the gruff voice from the other side of the hall hailed them and Storm rolled her eyes.

"Logan – the kids don't seem to have learnt very much this morning. You clearly didn't work them hard enough if they had the energy to be rude to poor John here," she chided, and Logan scowled, looking at John with his cigar firmly clamped between his lips.

"You hearin' this boy? Hear what she says about me? Damn it woman, the kids may think you're the soft one but one of these days I'll show them the real you – firebug, you're my witness!"

"I saw nothin'," John insisted, and Logan's shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Another one lost. I see where this is goin'. Well, I'm off ta see the girls, you stay outta trouble there Pyro!" John nodded and grinned lopsidedly as Logan stalked off, Storm giggling like a schoolgirl.

"For all his temper I've never seen a man who can eat as many cookies in one sitting as that one," she joked, and John couldn't stifle a chuckle at the thought of the mighty Wolverine bloated and wearing some form of 'Cookie Master' crown while he shoveled them down by the bucketload.

"Maybe I'll have ta challenge him f' the title someday," he said, Remy suddenly speaking in his ear.

"_Mon ami_, y' can' have cookies wit'out _moi!_" he said in a wounded voice and John shoved him lightly.

"Thanks fer everythin'," he said to Storm as the excited Cajun dragged him outside, and she waved, smiling.

"Take care, John!" she called, the door closing after them.

"You know, he's a good kid that one," Logan's voice sounded somewhere behind her, and she turned to face him, smiling sadly.

"I know."

_**~*****************************************************************~**_

**_P.S: Anyone need French translations, let me know in your review._**

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	28. Belief

_**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of this. So fuck off.**_

_**(I would like to thank: Anon goddess, for being my lovely little peach; Laceylou76 for being so supportive and wonderful; Irual for the cookies, thanks luv!; LadyMageLuna, thank you for your concern!; TitansRule, don't worry, I'm taking care; Rogue-scholar07, thank you so much; Bloodypassion, I'm so happy for you so please tell me what you think of this^^; RogueMoon, you're new but thank you so much, I hope you continue to let me know how you like this; Valnar, always a pleasure sugah, I'm sure y'all are helpin meh heal faster when ya review lahke ya do - stay brutal!; and my darling AshmandaLC, honey, I may not wait for you updates-wise, but ya know Ah ain' never gon' ferget ya honeypie - Ah'll be ragh here when ya can review again, don't worry, Ah understand! To all of you, thank you so much for being there for me lately and let me know if this is total fail. If it is, I'll blame the painkillers I'm not supposed to take - they're not good for me but no pain is a small price to pay for wooziness and lack of control over motor functions^^ All of you, take care, stay safe. Luv to y'all!)**_

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* * *

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_**~Scarlet Letter ~**_

_**Belief...**_

_**~*****************************************************************~**_

"I've decided t' go stay at de Institute for a while," he said cautiously, awaiting the response which would hands down be an angry and disappointed one. That is, should have been. Would normally have been. But nothing was normal anymore. Instead, the Aussie just shrugged and said,

"Ya wanna be closer ta the Sheila, fine by me. Jus' make sure ya give 'em hell while y' there an' don' let 'em stick ya in anythin' made o' spandex." Remy raised both eyebrows.

"Y' not gon' tell Remy t' stay de hell away from dat place?" he asked incredulously, and John shook his head wearily.

"Can' be bothered mate. Ya wan' ta be with 'er, easiest way ta do it is ta go where she is, easier ta do it when y' actually _allowed_ ta be there in the firs' place. Y' get what y' want. Why should I muck that up for ya?" Remy ran a hand through his hair.

"_Je ne sais pas..._ T'ought y'd be pissed is all."

"Never understood why you blokes have completely changed the meanin' o' that word," John sighed.

"No, I'm not pissed off at ya. I get it. You're a helluva lot luckier than me, mate. She actually want's you aroun'." Remy shrugged.

"_Peut-être._"

"What, you two 'ave a barney or..?" Remy shook his head and sighed, making an extravagant gesture involving both arms and a generous dollop of pure Cajun melodrama.

"_Non_, 'm jus' worried dat _ma chere_ only accepted _ma déclaration son amour _'cause she wasn' expectin' it, and den all de drama wit' de _petite friponne_ came along an' she needed someone t' lean on so she accepted it, an' now y' Wanda's jus' fine an' de worl's turnin' again an' she can have secon' t'oughts, y' know?" John nodded.

"See what ya mean there mate."

"Can' y' tell me what t' do, _mon ami_?" Remy looked at the same time hopeful and assured that it was a lost cause.

"Rem', the only thing I'm good at is runnin' away. Don' see how that would help ya much righ' now," John said solemnly,and Remy sighed and pulled a cigarette from nowhere, John's comfort-flame which he had been cradling between his pams flicking up to kiss the tip and lighting it. Remy took a deep drag and exhaled slowly.

"What if... What if she doesn' tink I'll stick aroun', _mon ami?_" John shrugged.

"If she knows ya she'll know the fact ya even considered livin' with those straight 'n' narrow dingbats in that place for 'er sake is practically equal to you chainin' y' goddamned heart to 'er bedpost mate." Remy chuckled ruefully.

"_Ce n'est que trop vrai_... Y' should 'ave 'eard all de tings de professeur wanted ole Remy t' promise 'im! Never heard s' many rules in all m' life!" John chuckled.

"What do you care? Not like they'd know if ya were breaking 'em all six times a day an' even if they did, y' don' belong to them an' y' old enough ta be doin' whatever the hell ya want." Remy regarded him with appraising eyes.

"Jus' what I said, _mon ami_!" John shrugged.

"Well, I know y' better 'n they do, don' I? Damn it, Rem', y' hate bein' caged up like that, why'd y' say yes? I get y' wanna be closer ta Rogue but Jesus mate, y' gotta try an' hold ya horses before ya go makin' cracked deals with those blokes!" Remy sighed.

"Y' gon' laugh at _moi_," he warned and John raised an eyebrow.

"I laugh at _ev'rythin'_, Rem'. Since when d' you care?"

"Since now," the Cajun bit back and John raised both hands in a gesture of dropping the subject.

"Fine, whatever... suit y'self..."

"'m afraid if I leave 'er, she'll get t' tinkin' bout all o' dis an' come up wit' ole Remy not bein' such a great inves'men' in 'er future..." he mumbled in a cloud of expelled smoke, and John sighed.

"Chris', mate..." Remy poked the ground with his boot.

"Y' ain' laughin', _mon ami_," he pointed out and John shook his head.

"Some things aren' funny, mate."

"Like y'self an' Wanda?" John's little comfort-flame flowed over his hands almost like some small, fiery pet sensing the distress of it's master and attempting to soothe it away.

"No. That's fuckin' hilarious."

"_Pardonnez-moi, mon ami... Je sais ce faire du mal..._" Remy said quietly and John shrugged.

"Doesn' matter righ' now... Ya need ta get back up mate. Where the fuck's all o' that Cocky Cajun shit ya normally got goin'?" Remy chuckled despite himself.

"Doesn' work on _ma chere_... She sees righ' t'rough dat. Sees righ' t'rough a lot o' tings, dat _femme_..."

"Well ya ain' y'self without it. Look, I think she likes ya mate, jus' think maybe all this crap wi' Wanda an' ev'rythin's givin' her room fer thinkin'... Sheilas thinkin' is always a bad thing."

"Got dat righ'. So what do I do?"

"Don' give 'er room t' think. Bes' thing I can come up with." Remy rolled his eyes.

"Great. What am I s'posed t' do? Stal – " John's look cut him off and he nodded.

"Deserved dat one."

"'S long as y' know it, it's fine." Remy flicked his cigarette butt away and John's little flame shot out to incinerate it completely. The Cajun pulled out another one which John just looked at.

"C'mon, _mon am_i. Stressin' out here!" He sighed and the flame licked up to touch the tip of the offending item, Remy dragging in the smoke like a man deprived.

"Gonna keep y' address in town, right?" Remy nodded, sucking on his cigarette much like a child with a pacifier.

"Oui... _Une homme's_ still gotta work. An I promised de _professeur_ notin' would trace back t' him or de Institute."

"Can' say fairer 'n' that now." Remy turned dim red eyes to John and mumbled around the cigarette,

"Am I makin' a mistake?" John shrugged.

"What the hell are ya askin' me for? I don' know the firs' thing abou' avoidin' mistakes. My whole life is one long mistake. By rights I should be under lock an' key somewhere bein' poked at by people with degrees an' recedin' hairlines!" Remy smiled ruefully.

"Dey ain' gon' take y' again, _mon ami_. I'll spring y' if dey do."

"Oh, great, thanks a billion. I'd rather jus' not have ta worry abou' it at all!" Remy shrugged.

"_Pardon_." John's flame wreathed his hands again and he conjured a rough image of a laughing Rogue that dissolved again quickly.

"I get it. I do. I can' tell ya you're makin' a mistake. I don't wanna tell ya. I jus' wan' ya ta be bloody careful, alrigh'? An' if she starts havin' second thoughts jus' convince 'er otherwise. Shouldn' be that hard." Remy threw his hands in the air dramatically and said,

"_Merde, Johnny-boy_, de _femme_ is harder t' crack den a goddamn safe an' shit scared o' committin' t' someone like _moi_, y' tink I c'n jus' sweet-talk her int' acceptin' dat 'we' should be 'us'?" John stared him down.

"Y've already convinced her ya mean what y' say. Now y' jus' need ta convince the Sheila that ya always will. Work it out."

"I love her, Johnny-boy," Remy said hoarsely through a cloud of smoke, and John patted him on the back.

"I know, mate. I know." Remy nodded once, rose and walked to his bike and John got up and turned to enter the house, not looking back.

_**~***************************************************************~**_

"Coming to live with us?!" the offended disbelief in Scott Summers' voice would normally have been hilarious if it wasn't for the fact that this was a serious announcement.

"Why, Professor? He could go anywhere," Jean asked in a more reasonable tone. Scott made a derisive noise.

"Isn't it obvious? He's coming to drool over Rogue and get the minors into trouble! Professor you cannot be serious about this! He's a thief and a liar and I don't trust him around all these underage girls to be honest." Jean glanced at her fiancée with a 'don't push it' look in her eyes but he didn't back down at all.

"Come on, Jean, you can't tell me you're okay with this!" Jean shrugged.

"Well, maybe it's not easy for him being all alone out there with all this anti-mutant hate going around right now – and last I heard he's not exactly friends with his family so he can't hide out there," she said in a tone clearly meant to calm him down but he just shook his head.

"I can't believe you're agreeing to let him into our home, how can you not see that this is going to cause trouble?" Jean just ignored him and addressed the Professor again.

"I'm sure we'll all do our best to make him feel welcome, Professor," she said calmly, mentally connecting with him at the same time. _Leave Scott to me, I don't want this to turn ugly._ The Professor nodded and smiled at the young couple.

"You two may go now. I'm expecting Mr. LeBeau to turn up later this evening although he may not be staying with us on a full time basis. I gather he has other commitments alongside this one," he said neutrally, Scott glaring holes in his desk.

"Professor, why are you letting him in here? He's a criminal and even worse, he's _proud_ of it. That's not what we stand for," the young man said quietly, and Charles sighed.

"Because, Scott. Everyone deserves a second chance. _That_ is what we stand for. That is what you stand for, as an X-man. I expect you to remember that." Clearly dismissed, Scott turned on his heel and stalked out, Jean giving the Professor a knowing look before she followed him, closing the door behind her.

"Scott Summers, don't you walk away from me!" she called to the man she planned to marry and he turned to face her, his anger evident in every aspect of his behaviour.

"What, Jean? You wanna tell me he's really a good guy and that I should give him a chance too?"

"No you jerk, I was going to tell you that if you're going to be in such a bad mood all day you can forget our date tonight," she huffed, and he glared at her.

"You think I'm gonna leave the house if _he's_ gonna be here? _Him,_ alone, with the kids and a bunch of people who think he's changed? Are you out of your mind?!"

"So you were going to blow me off so you could stay here and spy on him? That is so low, Scott!"

"I'm low? _I'm_ low?! Yeah, sure, because _I'm_ the one who's been stalking Rogue, _I'm_ the one who goes around stealing shit for the highest bidder, _I'm_ the one who's lying to the Professor to infiltrate _our_ home and spy on _us_! Yeah, I'm _real_ low!" Jean stared at him in shock.

"Don't swear at me! It's bad enough that your stupid prejudices have rubbed off on the kids, they've been acting like there's some kind of war still going on when we've worked so hard for peace and unity, I just can't believe you're taking it this far!" she said loudly, and he laughed at her instead, throwing his hands in the air.

"Fine, fine! You wanna believe he's changed, that he's a decent guy, you go right on ahead and believe that Jean but when he's robbed us blind or knocked up one of the girls or sold us out to the government you better be ready to hear I told you so!" and he spun on his heel and stormed off, Jean shrieking after him.

"Scott! Scott Summers if you walk away the wedding is off, you hear me? Off!" But he didn't turn around. With a confused sort of sob, Jean Grey covered her mouth with her hand and took a step back. She hadn't meant that. But he apparently had. Tear threatening, she turned tail and ran, only knowing where to when she ws in front of the door and knocking with the hand that wasn't holding back her hiccups.

"Come in," was the reply, and she opened the door carefully, standing in the entrance without knowing what else to do.

"Ah said – Jean?" Rogue had barely spoken the words before Jean was in her room, slamming the door after her and burying Rogue in a one-sided, unwilling hug.

"Jean – Jean, be careful, Ah – "

"The wedding's off!" Jean wailed piteously, and Rogue stopped trying to extricate herself from the other girl and stood stock still.

"Y'all said what?"

"We – had – a – fight – and – the – wedding's – o – o –oooff!" Jean cried, raising her head to look at Rogue, and Rogue stared at the telepath. Jean Grey did not cry well. Her eyes were already pink and swollen and her face was wet and all screwed up much like an unhappy toddlers. Rogue fought the growing urge to gloat mercilessly and helped the other girl to sit on her bed next to her, handing her a tissue. Jean blew her nose inelegantly.

"What were y'all faghtin' about? The wedding can't jus' be off lahke that!" she reasoned, and Jean shook her head, scrubbing at her nose.

"We – we were talking to the Professor – and he said – he said your Remy was coming to stay for a while – and Scott got mad – and he said things – so I told him not be such a jerk – and – and I said if he left the wedding was off – and – and – he didn't stop!"

"Stop walkin' or stop bein' an ass?" Rogue asked, and Jean sniffled.

"Stop walking! He just walked away! The wedding's off!" She dissolved into tears again and Rogue put a hesitant arm around her shoulders.

"Ah'm sure he jus' needs tahme ta cool off, Jean. Ya know how much he hates Remy, he'll get over it – maybe he didn' even hear y'all say the wedding would be off?" Jean shook her head miserably.

"He heard me – this stupid thing he has about this is more important than me – e –eee!" Rogue sat there for about another ten minutes trying to comfort Jean, handing her fresh tissues as the need arose, and when the crying fit subsided she took her arm from her shoulders.

"I - I don't know why I c-came to you – I'm sorry, Rogue," Jean began, but Rogue shook her head.

"It's alragh', really. Y'all don' need to aplogise. Look, Ah'm sure Scott will get over this, take y'all out somewhere nahce, an' it'll be okay. Ah'll try an' keep those two apart – Ah think Remy would love ta piss Scott off as much as Scott would hate it. We just keep 'em away from each other, okay? Go clean up an' talk ta Scott..." Jean smiled through her tears, the swollen cheeks and puffy pink eyes taking away somewhat from the overall effect.

"Thank you Rogue, thank you so much!" she cried, getting to her feet quickly and rushing to the door, exiting the room as suddenly as she had invaded it, and Rogue put her tissues away and stopped, suddenly, by her mirror, looking at herself.

The deep green eyes looking back at her looked painful for some reason and she dug for a reason. Maybe she just felt guilty for gloating inwardly over Jean's plight, her usually perfect facade ruined as though it never had been. But no, it ran deeper. Allowing herself to admit it, she saw a single tear spill from her own right eye past the thick sooty lashes and roll down her smooth pale cheek.

She knew she'd never be in the same position as Jean. A potential engagement – even the breaking off of one – was not possible for her. It wasn't a scenario Rogue's future included and it hurt. No one would ever want to marry a girl they couldn't touch, and certainly that meant a definite lack of proposals featured in the film of her life. Who would want to marry a woman they couldn't share a bed with, who couldn't bear their children or take an active part in the things a husband and wife were meant to share? She would never know what it felt like to stand at the altar with the man of her dreams and say 'I do' to a lifetime of marital bliss.

"Rogue..?" two furry, three-fingered hands rested gently on her shoulders and turned her around. She turned her face away.

"Rogue, are you alright?" She nodded, her thumb darting across her cheek to intercept another tear.

"Yeah, Kurt, Ah'm jus' fahne. Think Ah'm jus' glad Wanda's okay now, y' know?" she said weakly, and Kurt looked at her suspiciously.

"Is that all?" She nodded again.

"Yeah, why? Nothing else is goin' on," she sad quickly, and he gave her a hug which she stepped into gratefully.

"As long as you say so," he sighed into her shoulder, and she petted his hair.

"Ya know, Kurt... Ah really am glad you're mah brother," she said quietly, and he smiled at her, pulling back.

"Me too! Want to be alone, or..?" Rogue nodded, smiling, and her brother stepped back, waved twice, and bampfed out of her room. She walked out to her balcony and leant on the stone railing where Remy had sat that night, taking in the view of the bleeding sky, wind blowing through her hair almost as though a ghost was running his fingers through the auburn strands, and she heard the familiar sound of an approaching bike carried on the breeze. His bike. Abandoning her horison-watching she fairly flew out of her room and down the corridor to be the first one to greet him, her boots not hindering her speed at she burst through the double glass doors to see him standing there by his bike, she barely waited for him to open his arms before she'd thrown herself into them, inhaling the scent of leather, clean sweat, cigarettes and something uniquely him as she buried her face in his shoulder and felt his arms around her waist, so tight she almost couldn't breathe. It didn't matter. Breathing was for later.

"Missed me, _ma chere?_" he asked, so close to her ear that she shivered, his voice a gravelly whisper, and she shook her head.

"No," she lied, her own voice sounding so strange to her, all breath and hesitation, and he sighed into her hair.

"Y'all took a long tahme gettin' back, huh sugah?" she asked, and he twirled her around twice before setting her down again, laughing delightedly.

"Y' did miss me _chere_!" he crowed, and she laughed at him, secretly revelling in the ease with which he lifted her, the way he was so much bigger than her, so much stronger.

"Maybe a little – gets borin' round here pretty quickly," she teased, and he groaned.

"'m just a jester t' y' den _chere_? Ah, _ma belle Rogue_, y' breakin' _mon_ _cœur!_" She laughed and stepped back, taking his hand and pulling him after her. He followed willingly.

"Tahme t' face the music," she said under her breath, and he caught up in one fluid step and put his arm around her waist possesively.

"Sing f' me den, _ma belle chere..._" he growled in her ear, and she turned in his grasp, laughing as their faces drew closer to each other, her eyes closing as his other hand cupped her chin, his gloves between their skin –

"She's gonna zap him!" someone hooted loudly, a chorus of laughter surrounding them as they broke apart, Rogue's eyes promising a gruesome demise to those responsible for wrecking her moment, Remy's glowing a deep, affronted red.

"Like, get a room!" Jubilee called from the stairs, Rahne elbowing her as she dragged her away from the scene, muttering about extra Danger Room sessions and death. Roberto shook his head at Ray and Bobby who seemed to be the ones responsible for the cat-calls, and Rogue glared at them while the ever-discreet Sunspot legged it.

"Why Ah swear ta Gawd Bobby Drake Ah will end you – " she grated, stepping in their direction, and the two X-kids fled, Remy taking Rogue's hand to prevent her from giving chase.

"Dey always dis annoyin'?" he asked, and she nodded, turning back to him.

"Ya have no ah-dea," she spat, and he smiled at her tenderly.

"Y' accent's worse when y' angry," he noted, and she sighed.

"Least it's english," she said, and he rolled his eyes.

"Y' know y' don' mind de french, _chere_," he stated, and she shrugged.

"Keeps a gal on her toes," she acknowledged, pulling him after her into the kitchen where they were both equally surprised to see Jamie sat at the table with Ororo going over some equations. The boy looked up at the Cajun with wide, staring eyes and an open mouth, Ororo just smiling at them.

"Hello Rogue, Remy – will you two be joining us for dinner this evening?" she asked, and Rogue nodded, slightly distracted by Jamie's reaction to Remy, who looked both embarassed and a little ashamed at the way the youngster was staring at him.

"Wow – your eyes are _totally_ awesome!" Jamie blurted out, Remy's evident shock almost funny.

"What?" the Cajun asked at the same time as Ororo scolded,

"Jamie! We don't stare at people!" and Jamie grinned winningly.

"They're so cool – just like a real superhero!" he said with definite hero-worship on his face, and Remy just stared at the kid.

"Jamie, behave yourself – I'm so sorry Remy, he's so young, and – " Ororo began, but the Cajun broke into a slow, amused grin of his own and winked at her.

"I like dis kid," he said, and then to Jamie,

"Y' know sometimes it's not so cool to be a permanent superhero, _mon ami_," and Jamie made a dismissive gesture.

"They just don't get it," he said seriously, and then looked to Rogue.

"You're not gonna suck the life out of him, are you?" Ororo immediately clapped her hand over the child's mouth, turning a deeply ashamed, apologetic red face to Rogue who just looked stunned. Remy hid his smile behind his hand.

"I – no, Jamie. No," the Southern girl said quietly, reaching over to ruffle the boy's hair before exiting the kitchen, Remy following. Behind them they could hear Ororo open fire on Multiple for his impolite outbursts and the child's brave defense of his actions, his reasoning including 'it was too awesome!'. Remy caught up to Rogue who had a thin-lipped expression of hurt on her face and took her hand.

"_Chere_, wait," he murmured, and she turned around to face him, her eyes burning.

"_Chere_, he's just a kid," Remy began, but she held up her hand.

"Out of the mouths of babes, Remy. Ya know he's raght," she said, and the Cajun rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"_Non, chere_. I know dat I don' care what anyone says. F' God's sake, y' really okay wit' bein' wit' someone who can' hide what dey are? I can' do dat. I won' _ever_ look normal. Y' don' seem t' care bout dat, so why don' y' believe dat dis ain' a big deal f' me?" She began to protest and he was suddenly pinning her against the wall, his mouth on hers as she closed her eyes and gave in, fully intending to taunt him for his bravado in even contemplating a kamikaze move like that, but the kiss seemed to go on and on and she felt no pull. She drew back, panic in her eyes, and he smiled, tucking a section of her hair behind her ear.

"Y – _you_ – " she said breathlessly, and he kissed her again, just barely touching her lips with his own.

"_I_, am fine," he said softly, and she swallowed and cast about for something to say, anything that wouldn't sound stupid.

"Y'all are _insane_ is what you are," she blustered, and he laughed quietly.

"_Oui, chere_, if dat makes y' happy den by all means," he agreed, and she couldn't help but lick her lips and take in the fact that they were so close, he was practically leaning on her, all corded muscle and Cajun glory – and she realised that he meant it, and that he wasn't devouring her with his eyes the way she was doing with him. He was gazing at her steadily, lovingly, waiting for her reply. Her reply was to kiss him again, a heartbreakingly slow slide of her lips over his, the pressure between them so light it could have been a dream excepting the fact that she could taste him still, feel him.

"_Rogue_... _Je t'aime..._" he breathed when she pulled back a fraction of a centimetre, and she smiled.

"Ah know..."

_**~****************************************************************~**_

They were deeply involved in their private moment when a _snickt_ of adamantium claws alerted them to the possibility of their timing and lack of prudency in choosing such a public space being a poor decision.

"Gumbo, I don' wanna have t' say this again but I want a half metre between you two at all times, is that clear?" The Cajun bowed his head and stepped away from Rogue, who crossed her arms and glared at her father figure with apparent murderous intent.

"Logan, ya can' tell meh how close ta stand ta people," she said dangerously, and he smiled at her proudly.

"That's my girl!" he said with a hint of a growl at the end where Remy nodded sympathetically at his sentiments.

"An' maybe I can' tell you what ta do anymore Stripes, but I can damn sure tell him – not a word, bub, not a word," he warned the offended Cajun who was about to correct him.

"Y' can' make me – " Remy began and Logan raised his hand to silence him.

"Y' better count on me makin' ya if I see the two of you like that again kid. Not on my watch." Remy sighed and muttered under his breath and Logan chuckled.

"Damn straight boy, damn straight. You seen 'Ro aroun' here?" Rogue jerked her head at the kitchen and he walked past them, murmuring in Rogue's ear,

"Not in public Stripes.." She shook her head with a disbelieving laugh and Remy pouted.

"I don' like 'him _chere_," he sulked, and she had to laugh at the face he was pulling.

"Course ya don' lahke him sugah, he's jus' lahke you!"

"_Chere_, y' take dat back!" Remy gasped, his eyes widening in shock and she giggled and ran, the Cajun in hot pursuit as they bowled over each other into the library and almost up-ended Rahne who howled in surprise at the two mutants who lay sprawled on the floor in a chortling heap of legs and arms and general physical perfection.

"Rogue!" the younger girl exclaimed, and Remy sprang to his feet, pulling the Southern Belle up with him and tipping a wink at the redheaded Scotsman. She scowled at him and Rogue rolled her eyes.

"Rahne, ya seen Kit' roun' here?" Rahne shook her head, backing away from the two older mutants and they shrugged as one and turned to exit the room. Minutes later Rahne was joined by Sunspot who sat next to her with his own book and she looked at him gravely.

"You'll not believe what I jus' saw," she said, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Rogue an' some bloke wi' red eyes – an' she was laughin'!"

_**~*************************************************************~**_

"Fred!"

"What now?"

"We're outta ice cream!"

"It wasn't me, I swear," Freddy yelled from his post at the stove where he was concocting something that smelled vaguely like lasagna on the half way mark, and Pietro zipped into the kitchen and resumed his search for things.

"Wanda's not happy," he muttered as he rummaged through cupboards and darted around the kitchen table, and Fred shook his head.

"Calm down Pietro," he said slowly, and the agitated speed demon shook his head and began adding things to the sauce bubbling away on the cooker, Fred having to smack his hands away.

"Why's she not happy?" he asked, and Pietro actually did a lap of the kitchen in a futile attempt to calm his nerves.

"She's feeling weird and she doesn't recognise her stuff and she wants to know when Pyro's coming home and she wants her dinner now and ya gotta help me Blobbo, she's gonna kill me for sure, she's gonna kill me if she doesn't get what she wants – eep!" Fred lifted the annoying Quicksilver and strode out of the kitchen and up the stairs to Wanda's room with him, not needing to knock since the door was ajar.

"Wanda? Dinner won't be ready for another hour, could ya please tell Pietro you're not gonna kill him just cos there's no more ice cream?" Wanda looked up from where she was meticulously picking up everything on her dresser item by item and running it through her hands. She looked tired.

"Things don't look right in here Freddy," she complained, and he stepped into her room and enveloped her in a one-armed hug that was still more than cosy enough given his size. Pietro hung from his other arm, paralysed by fear.

"I know, but it's all gonna be okay, alright? We'll make things work," the huge teenager soothed and she pulled back, smiling brilliantly.

"I have the best brothers in the world," she trilled, hugging Pietro and kissing his cheek as Fred set him down.

"I just wanted you to have everything you want and I feel like such a failure and – " she shook her head and he shut up, Fred leaving them with a cheery wave at Wanda.

"I'm just feeling weird after all of this... I'll be okay. I'm not going to hurt you," she said seriously, and he threw his arms around her impulsively.

"I have the best _sister_ in the world – you're my only sister – I want you to be happy!" he muttered quickly, and she giggled.

"Remember when we were little and you used to win all those races at school just for me? You said I was your princess and I brought you luck," she said quietly, and he nodded, nostalgia pouring off him.

"You're _still_ my princess, sis. I'll win anything you want if it'll make you smile again..."

"Are you still afraid of the dark, Pietro?" He shook his head ruefully.

"Nah, I grew out of that coupla years back when I stopped sleeping normally," he confessed, and she smiled.

"Guess you passed it on to me then... Will you tell me stories if I get scared like I used to tell you?"

"Anytime. You don' need t' be scared for me to tell you stories Wanda. I still remember the one you used to tell me about the princess in the tower waiting for her prince to save her – that was your favourite." She giggled.

"The irony of it all!" she said sarcastically and he smiled proudly.

"Y' know even when we were kids I had the most beautiful sister in the whole world?"

"Pietro, back then the whole world was about a hundred people!" she protested, laughing, and he shook his head.

"I'm serious! An' you gettin' older hasn't made things any easier on me! I'll be fighting guys off with a stick," he mused, and she rolled her eyes.

"That used to get you in trouble, Pietro, maybe you should think twice before you go battering people with sticks."

"It was barely a twig and I hardly touched that kid," Pietro defended himself,

"Besides, he said he was gonna marry you when you grew up. No one's good enough to marry my Wanda." She laughed at the haughty expression on his face.

"You should see yourself! Anyway, I don't wanna get married... I'm good right here with my brother and my pretend-brothers. Unless Freddy doesn't get dinner ready soon. I'm starving!" Pietro looked into her stormy eyes gravely.

"You sure we're all brothers to ya, sis?" She shrugged.

"That's how I remember it. Am I wrong?"

"No, I just... Kinda thought maybe you and Pyro were friends before all this, that's all." Wanda's mirror cracked and he flinched in spite of himself. Wanda took a deep breath.

"No, Pietro. We just hang out because I borrow his stuff and all of that. Nothing's going on. I'm not cut out for all that stuff," she mumbled, and her brother stroked her cheek fondly.

"I jus' wanna make sure you end up with a prince, okay? It's my brotherly duty and all that jazz... And... I don't want you to be upset ever again..." She put her arm around her brother's waist and looked at their reflection in her now-cracked mirror.

"Know what I want? A family portrait..."

_**~**************************************************************~**_

Dinner was a hushed affair. The X-kids were either too busy nursing bruises or staring at the newcomer at their table to talk much, the adults speaking in low tones about very little of relevance to any teenage lifeform on the planet, Rogue and Remy each eating with their attention entirely on their plates while their feet under the table were a different matter altogether, Kitty and Kurt shoveling down their food to speed up the process seeing as they both had dates after dinner, and Jean and Scott ignoring each other completely. It was almost a shock to them all when Rogue's mobile rang.

"Uh, yeah?" she picked up, hiding under her bangs, the fact that Remy never even looked up from his dinner seeming to go completely unnoticed.

"Well yeah sugah... Uhuh... Yeah sure... Kitty's gonna be over soon though... Ah know, Ah know... Are ya sure? Okay. Okay honey. Love ya too. Take it easy. Yeah, they all say hey. Bye bye." She put the mobile away and looked up apologetically.

"Can we be excused? That was Wanda," she explained, and Logan grunted in the affirmative.

"Kid need somethin'?"

"Think she wants someone around who isn't scared shitless of her," Rogue said drily, getting up and being shadowed by the Cajun charmer whose every move was being catalogued by four pairs of teeny bopper eyes.

"She say anything about Lance?" Kitty asked, rising too, and Rogue shook her head.

"C'mon Kit, ya gonna be seein' the guy in lahke, twenty minutes, he's even comin' ta pick you up." Kitty blushed prettily.

"I know, I know, just asking..." Kurt got up too and ported to the kitchen, Ororo's slight frown indicative of all the times she had asked him not to _bampf_ in the kitchen.

"Well you children enjoy yourselves," she said airily, and Remy and Rogue disappeared into thin air while Kitty waved her goodbyes and ran out after them.

"You're okay with those two running off like that?" Scott asked Logan snidely and the older man just glared at him.

"Quiet bub."

_**~************************************************************~**_

The ride to Wanda's was exhilarating in a great deal of ways. Firstly, Rogue had come to realize that there was nothing quite like speeding along the road ignoring all limitations as to how fast one ought be going while pressed against the firm, muscular back of a handsome Cajun whom your legs happened to also be currently wrapped around. Secondly, the night was crisp and already the sky was a dusky moonlit grey, the breeze whiplike in the sudden absence of the sun. Thirdly, the fact that her main source of warmth was the aforementioned Cajun made the trip an exercise in sensory stimulation and she felt quite lightheaded when they arrived in Wanda's driveway and he courteously helped her off the bike. They spent a mutually instigated five-minute ride aftermath that consisted of a bit of kissing and some rather experimental above-clothes groping before they were interrupted by Kitty opening the door and calling them in.

"What took you guys?" she asked once they were inside, and Remy saved Rogue by shrugging and saying,

"Took de scenic route, _petite_. Where's de fire?" Wanda came down the stairs wrapped in a slightly overlarge black hoodie whose faded white gothic text proclaimed _Die For Dethklok_.

"Good question. Where is he?" Remy looked a bit confused for a second before cottoning on.

"Johnny's been in his room all day – unless he went out after I left him dere," he said, and Wanda raised an eyebrow.

"He's not there – the door's locked and no one's answering if you knock." Remy considered this and then took Rogue's hand and led them all upstairs where he knelt in front of John's door, fiddled with something that made no noise at all for half a second by the keyhole and then opened the door to pitch black and flicked on the lights. There was a John-shaped bulge on the bed under the covers and Remy spread out both arms like a magician's lovely assistant.

"Ta-daa, _petite_! Happy?" Rogue and Kitty giggled and Wanda just stifled a grin. An offended voice drifted out from the vicinity of the bed.

"Remy if that's you I swear I'm gonna kill ya..."

"Y' an' what army, _mon ami?_ Smile f' y' audience!" The rumpled head of St. John Allerdyce made it's appearance and he glared at his friend and his entourage of clearly amused young ladies.

"What the bloody _hell_..?" mumbled the Aussie, and Wanda tucked her hands inside her sleeves and said,

"I didn't know where you were and you were supposed to be home hours ago. I got worried..." Remy put his arm around Rogue and drew back, Kitty following at the beckoning of Lance who was stood on the landing smiling at her, and suddenly Wanda and John were alone.

"Right'... Well, I'm fine," John said needlessly, and Wanda nodded.

"You've been up here all along?" John nodded warily, uncertain what she was getting at, and she fiddled with her hair.

"Okay... Umm... I feel silly now," she said, and he waited for her to carry on.

"I got all upset and called Rogue and Remy over to find you for me... Kind of stupid," she muttered, and he smiled softly.

"Come in an' close the door, luv..."

* * *


	29. Nothing Else Matters

_**DISCLAIMER: None of this is mine so just back off.**_

_**(Anon godess darlin', I don't know if this qualifies as getting it on but they're getting something on XD rogue-scholar07, thanks a lot; LadyMageLuna, here's your solution; RogueMoon, keep reviewing and I'll be happy; tfobmv18, thank you and I hope you enjoy this; cougarrose47 - heeeeeeeres Jonda!; TitansRule, let us all bash Scooter, for he is annoying and should be shot - and here's a little something!; Laceylou76, it's about to get a whole lot softer babycakes; Irual, baby I promise I've been behaving but I had to put this up so please enjoy it and now I am off to rest my hands, I swear, I really am!; dragonfly422, wow, you overdosing on my crap makes me feel all tingly - oh, wait, the anaesthetic's wearin' off, shite - but seriously, I'm flattered, hope you keep enjoying it and keep reviewing, that would be nice^^; To my dear AshmandaLC, this happily ever after is my delivering for you being a love, so review my crap and I'll love you as long as you can stand it..? Let me know, all of you, and have a very metal day.)**_

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* * *

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_**~ Scarlet Letter ~**_

_**Nothing Else Matters.**_

_**~*****************************************************************~**_

She stood by the door, waiting, her heart feeling like it had magically expanded and lodged in the vicinity of her upper throat. She felt sure if she opened her mouth it would try to escape and make it's way over to the tousled Aussie on the bed. Best to stay silent. She crossed her arms a little more forcefully than she had intended but winced and had to loosen the stance and let her arms fall uselessly back to her sides, hoping he hadn't noticed. He narrowed his eyes as though angry but the look in them didn't seem to be one of anger. It was compassion.

"Wanda... Come 'ere," he said, and she bit her lip and lowered her head.

"Fine like this," she said quietly and he made an impatient noise and said,

"Suit y'self Rorschach, but y' can' hide forever." She looked up at him and saw that he looked worried more than anything else despite the tone of his voice and she mumbled, almost to herself,

"'M not hiding anything..." He reached out a hand to her, his gaze steady and soft.

"Luv, come 'ere... Please..." Her feet acted of their own volition carrying her towards him while she silently cursed this weird ability he had to make her body disobey her wishes and instead override the official position she'd chosen to take in favour of what she really felt she ought to do. He took her hand and pulled lightly, and she sat down beside him, her arms limp but held at a weird angle to prevent them from resting against anything. He kept his grip on her hand and placed his other on top of it, fingers just slightly brushing up under the edge of her sleeve and she hadn't the time to pull away before he'd tightened his grip so that she couldn't without painful consequences and he'd rolled her sleeve up enough to see the soft white bandages on her arm. She jerked away but her arm accidentally banged against his in the process and she cried out in pain. The look on his face changed again, this time to concern, and she fought the tears that stung at her eyes.

"Oh, Wanda... Darlin'..." Had he called her that before? She didn't think so. It was having a most disconcerting effect on her, the tears were escaping her control and she felt an overwhelming urge to be held and comforted. To explain.

"I – I could feel them – the needles – when I was remembering – I just – I wanted them to go away, I – " She swallowed and continued.

"I didn't notice until after – Dr McCoy told me I scratched them, told me he'd bandaged them. I didn't notice it hurt until this morning... I didn't want any of you to see, they'll just worry..." John nodded.

"The sleeves. I knew."

"How could you..?" He ran his finger ever so gently over her forearm and she shivered.

"When y' were asleep... They bled through. Doesn't show up on red until after, you were too gone t' notice." She looked away. The nightie, obviously. He would have seen the marks. She'd thought he hadn't noticed that, but he had, apparently.

"You – you were watching me?" He bit his lip as though regretting the admission.

"I couldn' sleep luv."

"Oh..." He moved his hands but she held on to them and he relaxed and let her.

"Wanted ta make sure y' were alrigh'," he added, and she shook her head.

"You stayed up on purpose?" He shrugged.

"Fel' like it," he said vaguely, and she nodded, not understanding in the slightest. Why would he do that? Why would he bother with something like that, deny himself rest to watch her?

"What?" he asked quietly, and she fiddled with his hands.

"Why – why would you do that? You didn't have to do that, I didn't ask you to!" she blurted out, and he smiled.

"Y' were in a strange house, hurt an' upset, y' wanted ta go home an' y' couldn', y' were feelin' bad enough ta wan' ta curl up ta _this_ an' I didn' trust any of those bastards ta look after ya properly if I had a kip," he explained, self-deprecation warring with gentle concern in his voice, and she felt agitated, shaking her head again, hands moving over his jerkily, as though the fingers were stiff.

"You didn't have to do that – I was fine – I _am_ fine – I'm okay now – " she mumbled, and he lifted a hand to her face and wiped away the tears that she hadn't noticed were silently trickling down her cheeks.

"Wanda... shhh, darlin', don' do that... Y' don' have ta pretend righ' now..." he said, so quietly she almost thought she'd misheard the endearment although she certainly felt the warmth that coursed through her as he said it.

"I'm so tired of crying, I'm so tired of being afraid, I want to be angry, I want to be angry again," she whispered, and he rested his forehead against hers for a moment, smiling bitterly, his one hand holding onto both of hers in her lap, the other resting in the hollow of her neck, his fingers absently stroking her deathly pale skin. She wondered briefly if he was in fact made of fire, he felt so warm...

"Wanda, we can' be angry all the time – I know it helps but it isn' righ'... You're too beautiful ta be so angry, luv. And I know you're afraid – ya don' have ta hide it if it's too hard. No one else has to see it darlin' but please don' pretend when it's jus' me... Not when I know the truth..." She looked down, at their clasped hands and saw scratch marks marring his skin, puzzled until it dawned on her. Pulling away with a cry she grabbed both of his hands and held them up to see what she'd done, _she_ had done that, hurt him again when she'd promised herself, promised she'd never hurt _anyone_ ever again –

"I'm so sorry!" she gasped, unable to keep touching him, stay this close when she'd done something like that, been weak enough to break that promise. Breaking away from him she made to get up but he held on to her and kept her where she was. She'd never realised how much stronger than her he actually was. Usually no one was stronger than her. Wanda the unreachable, the untouchable, the Class A Bitch.

"Stop strugglin' luv, y' not goin' anywhere," he said firmly, and she froze, at once ready to hex him for daring to speak to her like that and agreeing with him that this was the best place for her. Her mouth opened but she couldn't speak.

"Y – your hands, John – " she managed weakly, but he interrupted, cradling hers in his and forcing her to lean closer to him.

"I don' care, Wanda, I don' give a toss abou' anythin' righ' now that isn' you – y' not leavin' an' I forbid y' ta give a crap about anythin' ya do ta me, ya don' ever, _ever_ get ta feel guilty when I'm aroun'!" he said, his eyes flashing, and she stared at him. She'd never thought she'd find anyone attractive angry and sleep-tousled and insistent when she was used to having her own way with everything and being around people who walked on eggshells to avoid her wrath, but she did. Gods, but she did.

"I – " for all he was holding her so close to him and sounding so harsh, he wasn't hurting her at all, quite the contrary. He was carefully avoiding her arms and his fingers gave way to hers whenever she moved.

"Wanda..." She closed her eyes and shut off the sight of him, not wanting to see him looking at her the way he was, not wanting to admit that she wanted to not feel guilty with him.

"Wanda, please," he said, and she had to look at him.

"What do you want from me, John? I don't even know why I'm still here..."

"Maybe ya don' really wan' ta leave? I can' let ya go when y' like this luv. I need you ta understand."

"I don't understand anything! I don't understand why my father left me to rot in an asylum, I don't understand how he can just say he's repented and come back to stay with the X-freaks and everything's fine and dandy again like he's not the monster I know he is, I don't understand all these things in my head, I don't understand why I let you touch me or why I can't feel angry, I don't understand anything anymore!" His eyes were as soft as his voice.

"I know, luv. And I can' explain it all to ya. The only thing I can tell you is that yer Dad's a worthless piece o' shit f' what he did to ya – no one should ever have been allowed to do that to ya. There ain' a thing wrong with you, Wanda, an' you know it. Your Dad was scared shitless of you, did ya know that?" She shook her head dumbly, not knowing what to do in the face of his clear desire to help her, the burning of his eyes.

"Ya remember the bridge?" She flinched and he allowed her to, the self-loathing on his face staying her.

"You – you led me to him – I almost fell off..." The realisation that he had done that, been responsible for that, hit her and she felt suddenly afraid.

"I hate myself for ever agreein' ta work for that psycopathic bastard luv – I can' ask ya t' forgive me for what I did that day, but will y' let me explain?" She nodded. She wanted him to be innocent so badly, wanted him to admit to being possessed or something, anything that wasn't an admission of his guilt, his participation in the cause... He took a deep breath and lowered his eyes to her hands which he absently stroked while he spoke, his voice low and hard.

"Your Dad – may he rot in hell – found me after I got out of jail down under," he said, and at her questioning look he grimaced.

"Can I tell y' abou' that some other time? Ya gonna hate me enough for this as it is..." She bit her lip, and her fear must have showed in her eyes because his face softened and he sighed.

"I was doin' a stint f' comittin' arson that led ta the injury and a few deaths of roughly fifteen people. They put me through the DJJ process – Department of Juvenile Justice," he explained when she parted her lips to ask, and she closed them again, needing to know everything.

"Anyhow, they put me through that but I was... uncooperative. Couldn' function along with the others. They got me evaluated an' profiled an' put me on a bunch o' pills. I don't remember a whole lot from that time but apparently I wasn'... wasn' easy ta control..." there was a distant look in his eyes and his voice grated as though he were forcing himself through this, and her heart went out to him – made her ache to hold him and tell him she knew, knew just how it felt, knew how much it hurt, how frightening it was.

"I... They had ta put me in isolation. Couldn' risk lettin' me in ta the others. I was in Kariong – that's where they put all the nasty cases, all the bad eggs – an' they were afraid of lettin' me in with all the rest! Then they decided ta move me ta some special psychiatric reassessment malarkey... I thought I was gonna die - I don' do well in the cold an' they couldn' let me go outside – an' I was all alone..." He took another deep breath and continued.

"They took me ta see some shrink, no idea why they thought that would work out... Anyway, my sentence was gonna be a long one – wouldn' have been out yet if I hadn' left, they woulda shifted me on ta bigger more prisony things – an' I don' think they'd explained the rules ta this shrink Sheila, 'cause when I got there she was in 'er office smokin'..." Wanda breathed in sharply at the change in his eyes, the hatred she saw there truly frightened her, and his voice lowered to a whisper.

"Place went up in two minutes. Found that out after... That's all it took, jus' two minutes... I didn' – I couldn' control it, I was so angry... I don' know if I woulda even tried if I'd been able ta..."

"John..." she said, not knowing why, just feeling that she had to express the extent of her understanding somehow, and he looked at her with something akin to tenderness in his face.

"I'm not like you, darlin'. I'm not misunderstood. I'm not a good person deep down, deep down is where I keep the monsters an' they don' like bein' let out. I had control then, over my powers, jus' not over my emotions an' that fed the fire, so ta speak. I was too angry ta stop an' I jus'... I couldn' go back ta that... It woulda killed me luv. I know what it's like ta want things you ain' proud of afterwards. I wan'ed them all dead. I admit that..."

"You think I don't wish I could maim every single orderly who ever injected me or forced pills down my throat? The ones who would hose me down because they didn't trust me to shower on my own, they used to laugh at me, call me names... The braver ones used to do more than just that... If I could, I'd kill them all, I hope they all die of cancer and if I ever meet them on the street I won't hesitate to bury them in a heartbeat, John... Please don't hate yourself for hating them..." He raised his hand to brush her hair back and it lingered on her face.

"You're defendin' what I did an' ya don' even know what I was in jail for in the firs' place... Not jus' gorgeous on the outside, are ya luv?" His tone was bittersweet and she held his hand in place against her cool cheek, leaning in to the touch.

"Tell me what you were in for then." He sighed.

"Stickin' my head in where I shouldn' 'ave been," he said quietly.

"I was on the streets, got friendly with a nice ol' Sheila one evenin' who said I reminded 'er of 'er little brother who popped 'is clogs... Prossie, 'course, once ya down there ya only got two kinds o' people. She disappeared an' me bein' an idiot I wen' lookin'. Turns out her ol' boss beat her ta death an' when I tracked down the bastard he was gettin' stuck in ta worse 'n that. So I tootled along ta their little club'ouse an' burnt it to the ground..."

"How... Why..." She seemed to be trying to settle on a question and he let her.

"Why did you get caught? I mean... you seem..."

"Smarter 'n that? Now, maybe luv, but that kinda smart comes from experience. I was enough of a tosser ta hang about to enjoy my revenge an' I got caught. Not so smart, eh? So yeah, death an' mayhem. Bi-words f' Pyro..." His hand slipped a little and she held on to it, keeping it pressed against her just above her collarbone.

"They deserved to die, John," she said with a conviction that made her eyes glow, and he smiled at her.

"Y' proud of me now?" he asked, and she knew the taunting lilt to his voice was meant for himself.

"I'm proud of you for surviving that. They shouldn't have prosecuted you for doing what you did. You did the right thing. They would have hurt other people," she said firmly, and he gave her an odd, piercing look.

"But can y' condone me burnin' that shrink's place? Big building, luv... Full o' people... Y' can' defend that one," he said quietly, and her eyes flared with a sudden fierce passion.

"They had locked you up for nothing – they were drugging you and controlling you, stealing your life away! You did what you had to do! They got what they deserved, what they did wasn't right, wasn't fair! If I had been there I'd have cheered you on all the way, don't you ever doubt that! They never listen, people like that never listen – for years I told them, told all of them that I wasn't crazy, that I didn't belong in there and all they'd say was 'of course not dearie' and patronise me but they were all afraid and they should be! We're not crazy and if they choose to ignore that – ignore who we are for what they think we are then they _should_ die! They should all _burn!_" Her voice cracked and she realised she was snarling, realised that this fire inside her was anger, real, hot, pent-up rage – she felt as though in a way by his actions he had avenged some part of her own suffering even though she hadn't even known about it until now and it felt so good. She knew she'd been right – he wasn't a bad person at all, he'd been wronged just as she had, seen the same hell, burnt the way she had burnt all those years alone –

"You understand, don' you darlin'..?" he asked softly, and she nodded, swallowing some of the fury. It felt so delicious to be angry again. The haze of misery had lifted, instead she felt a fierce pride in the mutant sitting in front of her, so close to her that she was leeching his body heat, felt him breathe. She knew now what Dr McCoy had meant. Someone who understood. Someone who had been there.

"I understand everything," she said, her hand moving to rest over his heart.

"I _am_ proud of you." He smiled a little, making no move to remove her hand, and went on.

"Anyway... When I knew what the hell I was doin' again, I was a wanted man. Couldn' leave the country, couldn' do anythin'. On the run. An' it turns out your Dad had gotten wind of the pyrokinetic freakshow down Oz way an' decided ta come track me down himself. He figured he could offer me a deal – get me outta the country an' make sure they didn't get me, an' in return I'd work for 'im. Do whatever he asked me ta do." She nodded, she could see why he would have taken her father up on his offer. In the same situation she probably would have too.

"Didn' know what he wanted me ta do til we got here an' it turned out he wanted me ta help him an' his merry band o' terrorists. I was done though – told him there was no way I'd hurt anyone again, I never wan'ed t' take anyone's life ever again – I ain' no God, luv. Doesn' matter what the fucker tried ta tell us, having these powers doesn' give us the righ' ta play God over others."

"Then why did you stay..? I know he made you hurt people... All he does is hurt people," she asked, her voice hushed, eyes brimming over with sadness for his plight.

"Can't go back home when y' wanted f' murder, darlin'... And there was nothin' f' me here... One whiff of my details an' they'd have dragged me back to a white cell faster 'n' I could plead guilty." Her hand dropped almost listessly and she lowered her eyes.

"He hurt you, too," she deduced.

"He threatened me. He said I owed him for getting me out of there, loyalty for a life an' all that crap. I told him that was bollocks an' he never asked me ta sign up f' murder when he offered ta take me with him and... He would have turned me in. Bastard actually had the nerve ta put me in a bloody cage. Said he'd send me ta the authorities himself if I didn' shut my mouth an' do as told... I couldn' go back luv. I wasn' strong enough t' say no." The defeat in his eyes and the tone of his voice – the utter self-loathing and disgust he projected over his decision broke something inside her where she hadn't known there was something to break. Without thinking she suddenly had her arms around him, whispering in his ear and holding him to her heart.

"I would have done the same," she breathed,

"I would have done whatever he asked, anything – it wasn't your fault, he screwed you over John, he fucked you just as he did me and we never saw it coming – he's a filthy liar and a coward – I would have done the same!" He put his arms around her waist and held her in return, hiding his face in her hair as she spoke to him – they were so close and her words so quiet that he didn't believe anyone standing right next to them could have deciphered their meaning. He pulled back after a moment and reached up to wipe away two tears from their respective cheeks.

"Don' cry f' me, darlin'... Don' ever do that. It isn' worth it, it's over," he said softly, and she smiled at him, her eyes shimmering in the half light.

"Someone should cry for you, John... Everyone needs someone to cry for them, even us..." He smiled back, sad and bitter but somehow she could see the gratitude behind it all, for what she'd done for him.

"That day, on the bridge?"

"You don't have to – " she started, but he placed a gentle finger over her lips and silenced her protests.

"Wanda, I need you ta know." She nodded, and he went on, his voice rough and managing to warm her in an entirely new way.

"Your Dad... He'd told me a little bit about you. He lied about some of it but I didn' care. I'd already decided that it didn' matter what he said, I'd just assume it was a lie. But I went. I had orders – stop you, destroy you, kill you, he didn' care what I picked but when I saw ya... I couldn' do it luv. I was never gonna hurt ya – I jus' couldn' do it. I staged the destruction, I'm fair at that crap, but I was gonna let ya get away. It wouldn' 'ave mattered much, you're a lot stronger than me no matter how ya tie it an' even without the control ya have now ya coulda taken me down pretty quickly if y' wanted to..." His voice trailed off and she understood why.

"I fell," she said, and he nodded, his eyes meeting hers so full of anguish she almost couldn't bear it.

"Thought y' were done for darlin'... Was that ready ta jump off with ya but I saw y' climb back up an' I knew. I knew I should be helpin' ya. I knew if y' had the help ta make it happen you could finish the ol' bastard off so I decided ta lead ya to 'im..."

"But I thought he asked you to do that..?" John chuckled, a sliver of his almost alter-ego like personality shining through, the half cracked weirdo act. She didn't mind. She had her own defense mechanisms.

"Darlin' when he found out you'd come after me he damn near crapped himself! Course I told 'im I thought you'd done a tumble off the bridge an' he bought it, but he'd 'a' killed me then an' there if he thought I knew y' were after me!"

"Why would you risk that..? You really believed I could defeat him?" He nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear again, the gesture slow enough for her to allow herself to revel in it for a second.

"You were an' are stronger than him, Wanda. An' I had nothin' ta lose an' ev'rythin' ta gain if he wen' bye bye. An' you were the Sheila f' the job if ever I saw one... But he did a number on ya. I didn't wan' that ta happen."

"I thought you lured me there on purpose so he could screw with me again so I wouldn't mess things up for him anymore," she said, confused, and John sighed.

"No luv. When he saw you were comin' he wen' off an' came back with Mastermind. I didn' even know he had that bloke with 'im. An' he made the slimy bugger fuck with my head so I thought I'd lured you there on his orders so he could mess you up again an' get off the Black List. He gave me an' the boys that memory so we wouldn' A) question ol' Magsy's leadership an' plannin' skills, an' B) all be on the same page so we'd all think it was part of some grand plan and no one would be able ta screw up by askin' why one of us thought this when the others think somethin' else. He's a grand scale piss artist your Dad," he added as an afterthought, and she grimaced.

"Makes sense... How do you know this?" John looked away.

"After they screwed you up again, I fel' wrong about it. Even though I had the righ' memories it fel' wrong. An' then I was talkin' ta Remy an' he said he fel' weird about it too, his shields actin' up, the memories were all twisted like photographs or somethin' an' Rem's always right on the dot when it comes ta rememberin' missions. So I wen' ta see ole Jason..." The way he said it made her think it wasn't a social call.

"He told you the truth?" John looked at her with a strange sort of apprehension on his face.

"Anyone will tell ya the truth when y' wake 'em up by searin' their polyester PJ's to their skin an' demonstrate jus' how flammable man-made materials can be... Shit doesn' come with a 'Do not place near flame' label f' nothin' darlin'..." he said quietly, and she searched his face. His eyes were hard, unrepenting as he awaited her judgement over his actions.

"Good," she said, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Approved?" She nodded.

"That son of a bitch put things in my head, John. He took away who I am, he made me believe things that aren't real. I do not like liars." John's smile was a mixture of relief and respect and she basked in it.

"Good ta know, luv... But he tol' me the truth anyway - an' I know it's the truth because believe me, no one can use their powers when they're in that much pain, I should know – an' I asked him about you. I asked how long it would be until you got your memories back. An' he admitted he'd done a shit job on you, no time or whatever, anyway, he said it probably wouldn' be long before they started actin' up on ya. An' when Remy came back an' tol' me he knew the deal as well, I decided."

"What?" she asked, fearing the answer for some reason.

"That I'd make certain that this time, no one fucks with the Scarlet Witch," he said, stonefaced, and she opened her mouth.

"Do you hate me now, Wanda?" he asked, and she shook her head mutely.

"You – why?" she asked, and he smiled at her.

"You're like me. You've been the same places, you've felt the same pain. I wanted ta help you because I can' help myself an' because I felt I owed it to ya for lettin' them screw with you the second time around – it doesn' matter that I couldn' have stopped it," he cut across her protests again.

"It doesn' matter that I couldn' have done anything, luv. What matters is that I was there an' I saw it happen when it should never have even been possible. You didn' deserve that. I even felt guilty that I led you right there, that I didn' have the power to help you even though I can' change that. But when Remy came back, I made my choice. I would help you this time, no matter what."

"So... so you came here – you've been nice to me and everything because you felt you owed me and you wanted to help me? Is that why you stayed? Is that... is that why... why..." she couldn't finish the sentence, and he tilted her chin up so their eyes were locked on each other.

"No. Originally, I wanted to keep anyone from ever committing any crime like that against you ever again, repay my debt for not stopping it last time. And I wanted to be there when you remembered, help you do whatever it is you might want to do, keep anyone from interfering this time because fuck knows, you deserve your revenge, darlin', an' nothin' would make me 'appier than t' see justice done for ya. Believe me or not, it's the truth. But I liked you from the moment I laid my peepers on ya an' I never intended ta get close to ya at all – I was gonna jus' lay low an' help ya from the sidelines, have your back. But I like ya, Wanda. I _wanted_ ta get involved. I wanted ta be with you, hang out with ya, whatever ya wanna call it..." He wasn't lying. She could see it. But there was something nagging at her still and it wouldn't go away, she knew that.

"And the... what about..?" He sighed.

"I didn' mean ta do that. I didn' ever mean ta do that luv. I shouldn' 'ave done it when ya didn' know the whole story, the whole truth, an' you have ta believe, I gave myself hell for it... I really, really did... I wasn' strong enough ta resist – I wanted it too much... Wanted _you_ too much... I – I really, really – bloody hell... I..." And she knew – he wasn't sure what love felt like either, so he couldn't tell her he was in love with her. And he had nothing to compare it to either, no frame of reference...

"I was going ta tell you ev'rythin' darlin'. Righ' then, when I said we'd talk when ya got dressed? I meant it. I was gonna tell ya ev'rythin' an' then some. Like I'm doin' righ' now. And then... you remembered... An' I didn' even know what the hell I was feelin' – I was havin' an episode ten minutes after I left ya in the hallway an' I can' even tell ya what I was feelin'... I thought that your projection was jus' another thing my fucked up brain was torturing me with, ta be honest... Until afterwards, when I saw some of your other memories, some of the pain I couldn' remember happenin' that way, some things I couldn' remember at all – and I knew it was yours, knew you'd found it all again... The missin' pieces... An' I swear I would 'ave run if it hadn' been for the Prof an' that fuzzy doctor... they tol' me not to. I tol' them they couldn' know, that I knew you'd hate me the minute you opened your eyes but they told me ta try.. An' I wanted to try, Wanda... I thought you'd kill me on sight, hones'ly, but I needed ta try... I still wanted ta tell ya the truth, tell ya that I never meant any of it to go that way, that I wanted – couldn' – jus' ev'rythin'... An' what we did, what _I_ did in that bathroom – an' the hallway – I couldn' run because y' never pushed me away then... An' seein' as how I'm a class A dingbat I couldn' leave ya when I knew I'd always be thinkin' about whether or not ya _would_ have killed me on sight..." He looked away but she caught his face with her icy fingertips and smiled at him, her face glowing.

"You are the single bravest idiot I know," she said softly, her smile so brilliant she felt she was using facial muscles she'd only just developed.

"I don't hate you, John... I understand – I understand everything... I wish you could have told me then – I don't know if I could have taken it all in but I wish I had known... When I was in that coma, I saw all your faces – I put them in boxes in my head like Agatha taught me to – and I saw yours... I was so afraid because what I felt wasn't what Rogue looked like or what Kitty said it felt like, and I let all of that get in the way and scare me... I shouldn't have... Because when I saw your face and I couldn't remember properly, all I knew, all I saw was the fun we had together, going out for dinner, toasting marshmallows – the way you look at me... It felt good and I knew I wanted to keep that... When I woke up and you were asleep I thought you were dead and I blamed myself – I hated myself... and... I thought I'd ruined the chance of ever getting to tell you that I like you, I have fun with you... And what we did... It made me see that there's so much to feel... And I want to feel more than anything in the world..." He was looking at her with shining eyes, his lips parted, and he licked them quickly.

"When you were asleep and I was watchin' you – _yes_, I was watchin' ya, I wanted to, I felt like the luckiest bastard alive because ya hadn't killed me an' you weren' runnin away screamin', I even had you in my arms f' fuck's sake – all I know is that I felt happy. _Really_ happy, not the fake shit my brain serves up, not the kind playin' with fire brings out... I felt like I could breathe an' all that mattered was that you were okay an' ya didn' seem ta hate me despite ev'rythin'..."

"I don't hate you," she breathed, and he smiled.

"You an' me luv, we know hate an' fear better than anyone else..." She smiled back. There was an infinite comfort in those words. That he knew, he understood. It didn't matter what happened, he would know how she felt because he'd be feeling it too...

"I – I don't know what love feels like, John, but you make me happy," she said tentatively, and he held her a little closer. The barest hint of a breath was now between them, that was all it would take...

"Darlin', I don' think I know much about what anythin' good feels like, but you make a bloke so goddamn happy it's _worth_ snuffin' it for... Honest ta God woman ya smile any more at me an' I'm gonna spontaneously combust righ' here, righ' now!" She laughed at the sincerity in his eyes and he groaned.

"An' the Sheila goes an' laughs, did you ever see the like?" he asked in a comically overdramatic tone, half to himself and half to her, and she quieted herself and bit her lip.

"Do you – do you feel all warm?" He looked at her seriously.

"I'm almost always warm – think it's a side effect of my powers luv. Ya mean do I feel warm inside?" She nodded dumbly, unable to describe what she wanted him to be feeling. He nodded thoughtfully.

"Luv, fire doesn' burn me - unless I wan' it to a'course - but you... You burn me... An' I can' control it any more 'n I can stop wantin' it. Nothin' burns the way you do. I don' even have ta look at you – it's enough that I know you're there somewhere an' I'm a bloody pyre inside..." She nodded quickly, adjusting her arm where it hung over his shoulder, both her arms still around his neck.

"And do you... do you feel tingly too?" He laughed at that and put his hand on the small of her back, the fact that he could likely encircle her waist with both hands if he tried it not lost on her. She liked the idea.

"Like faggy little fairies were dancin' all over me luv!" he grinned, and she had to smile. It sobered quickly though as she felt something else well up in her too.

"And... and does it hurt?" He nodded, the certainty of the gesture almost enough to make her lose her nerve.

"It _aches_, luv... Like ya reached into me an' pulled out somethin' I needed more 'n I knew. But I like it... I wan' it ta ache like that... It feels like it should, like whatever it is ya took should be yours, if that even makes sense..." she heard the derisive edge to his words and shook her head.

"You always make sense, John... At least you do to me... And the aching... I feel that way too... I didn't understand it because it's not like real pain, it just feels like I need to fill it with something to make it stop..." He smiled at her.

"I know... close your eyes, darlin'." She was a little suspicious of the light in his own sparkling blue eyes.

"Why..? What are you going to do?"

"Nothing that would ever hurt you, luv. Trust me..." She let her lashes flicker and lower over her eyes until she was blind and couldn't help but hold her breath. And then he stole it from her. She felt the gentle slide of his lips over her own, so brief she thought she'd dreamt it until she heard him ask the one question that could have ensured that she would always close her eyes for him.

"Did you feel it..?" she opened her eyes and they were wide and full of something she couldn't name but wanted to share.

"I felt it..." His hand crept up to caress her cheek and she sighed lightly.

"Did it hurt?" he asked, a tiny ghost-smile playing about his lips. She focused on them and then slid her eyes back up to meet his ever so slowly.

"No... it ached..." The ghost smile was made flesh and she wanted to feel that, too.

"Close your eyes for me again, luv?" She obliged him, this time holding her breath out of excitement rather than fear. She felt him kiss her again, but this time it was a little more insistent, insistent enough to warrant a slight parting of her lips that he took advantage of, tasting her for the barest moment before he drew back and she almost demanded he cease his incessant retreating. She opened her eyes again, feeling the urge to blink a few times when she saw the self-control etched onto his features.

"Feel that?" he asked with a hint of something rough and urgent in his voice, and she nodded.

"And..?"

"It wasn't enough," she sighed, pushing her fingers through his hair and rewarded with a shiver and what looked like him biting the inside of his cheek hard.

"I burnt and it wasn't enough..." He eased in to her and whispered in her ear, breath tickling the little hairs behind the delicate shell.

"Close your beautiful eyes for me again, luv... I promise, it won't hurt..." She closed them at his request again and felt him kiss his way from just below her ear along her jawline and up to her mouth, where he bestowed a tiny, almost chaste kiss before capturing her lips in something that felt like she was being scorched from the inside out. She felt her fingers curl in hard until she was digging her nails into the muscle of his shoulder but she didn't care, if that was what it took for him to forget retreating this time, to hold her even closer if that was even _possible_ and just burn with her, until there was nothing left and the world burned with them – and he pulled back, his eyes scanning her face for anything that even hinted at regret or hesitation, and she stared back, taking in the way he looked as though she were seeing him for the first time, drinking him in as surely as if their mouths were still connected, and he stroked the hair from her face and swallowed before he said,

"I know you felt that," his voice enticingly deep with an edge to it that she wanted sharp enough to slice right through her.

"I did – and I want to keep feeling it," she replied, her own voice low and breathless, her own edge subtler, darker, and he ran two fingers from her jaw down her neck as she tipped her head back to allow him a better view of what he was doing to her, and he dipped his head to kiss the creamy white now exposed and ran his fingers through her hair almost as if he wanted to take the rest of her in with his other senses after drinking so deeply from something so intoxicating.

"I won't ask you if you love me, Wanda," he whispered raggedly, and she made a soft noise in the back of her throat that she felt and knew of only because the movement brought her skin into the briefest contact with his lips again. He'd only raised them from her just barely enough to speak without the words being muffled.

"You don't have to," she answered.

"You can feel it..."

_**~****************************************************************~**_

" – haha, an' den dere was dat time we caught ol' Colossus polishin' 'is armour, damn de boy looked queer!" Rogue had to laugh at the visual and cuddled in closer to what she realised was probably her boyfriend.

"Hey, Remy?"

"_Chere?_"

"Do ya – do y'all wish none o' this had ever happened? Ah mean, Magneto an' the Acolytes an' all that?" He kissed her hair and chuckled a little.

"_Non, chere_... Sure, I wish Magneto had been stillborn sometimes but dat's because he's wrecked so many lives, an' sure, I wish y' an' _moi_ were normal sometimes so I didn' have t' worry 'bout notin' 'cept y', no psycho _famille_ gettin' in de way, but _non_. _Je t'aime_ jus' de way y' are an' I kinda like de tale o' how we met too – gon' be int'restin' t' tell in a few years time..." She mulled over it for a few minutes while he stroked her hair. He'd never notice the time passing – he got very trance-like when he was playing with her hair, she'd observed.

"Y'all think they're talkin' up there?" she asked, and he sighed.

"_Chere_, dey need t' get tings straight between dem. Trus' _moi_, dey be talkin'." She huffed.

"But what if they're not talkin', what if they're jus' runnin' round the issue an' pretendin' they're alragh' as jus' friends, Ah know damn well Wanda has feelin's f' him, an' if you say he feels the same about her Ah believe ya, but what if they don' work it out?" Remy gave her an odd look.

"Y' wan' dem t'be t'gether chere?" She nodded.

"They go together... Ah think he'd be good f' Wanda."

"Y' have any idea how destructive de two of dem could be if dey wanted t' be? Wan' sometin' trashed, Pyro's de _homme_ f' de job, an' y' Wanda she got a lot o' people she migh' wan' trashed _chere_..." His tone was almost sing-song and Rogue smiled.

"Y'all are testin' meh, aren't ya? Ya damn stupid Cajun, we already decided they need each other. Quit playin' games," she giggled, and he curled his arm around her and kissed her quickly.

"Y' sure y' don' wanna play games wit' me, _chere_..?" She rolled her eyes and dove on him, her giggling and his delighted growl mingling into what she was certain was the most beautiful sound on earth. Trial period or no, she was going to enjoy every second she had left...

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	30. Family Time

_**DISCLAIMER: I own none of this, Marvel does.**_

_**(Thanks to: rogue-scholar07, good to know you continue to like this; TitansRule, that is some compliment!; Laceylou76, babycakes, if you thought it was beautiful then all I can say is 'my song can but borrow your grace' *V^; Bloodypassion, your words made me feel like I'd accomplished something and I am deeply touched and flattered that you enjoyed this, thank you; CatLady172, thank you *V*; tfobmv18, thank you and here's an update^^; LadyMageLuna, indeed not, as promised ^V^; dragonfly422, thank you so very much and I hope you continue to enjoy my writing; Valnar, here's hopin' you can scrape up the cash for those boots, huh? ^^ ; my very dear friend Irual, honeypie you are so good to me I almost feel unworthy XD I hope this meets with approval; anon g, my little princess, you ever need me to tell you stories, all you have to do is ask and I'll be right there... I don't own a tower but I can put you on a pedestal and worship at your feet just fine. You make it worth being here and I mean every word; AshmandaLC, my dear darkling, I cannot begin to describe all the things I'd like the guys to do to you for how happy you make me but give me a few PM's and I'll try my damnedest to be as bad as you want XD Hope this doesn't disappoint despite lack of drect action, this is a link in the chain before the next jewel, unfortunately, that is how we non-dwarven inferiors must craft our work...)**_

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_**~ Scarlet Letter ~**_

_**Family Time**_

_**~*************************************************************~**_

"Why aren't they back yet?" Logan just raised his eyebrow and tipped back his beer, letting the younger mutant rant.

"It's half past one, they should be back by now! How do we know he didn't suddenly decide to take her to another state again? Or another country! They could be anywhere – doing anything!" Scott paced the kitchen restlessly, his arm movements exaggerated and his tone angry.

"Kitty's not answering her mobile but she's with that damn 'hood of hers so no surprise there – what does she _see_ in that creep anyway? He's a criminal just like the rest of them, an arrogant, violent criminal! And all this 'going to see Wanda' nonsense, who the heck is buying that? I for one am not even convinced she's safe to be around, maybe Magneto had the right idea – I mean what, she has a tantrum and hundreds of people the world over have to die because Wanda's not happy? Puh-leeze! She just needs to learn a little self-control!" Logan made a low growling sound in the back of his throat and closed his eyes as Scott paced past him again for the thousandth time, but the irate Cyclops didn't seem to notice and continued his tirade.

"Ha, and it's not like any of the others are any better – and now they even have Pyro living with them to make it one big happy family of criminal freaks! I wouldn't be surprised if he murders them all in their beds because the voices told him to! And I'm not sleeping a wink in this house until Gambit clears out – he'll steal everything we own and I'm not letting any of the girls out of my sight with him! I cannot believe the Professor agreed to him staying with us! It isn't bad enough he stalked and kidnapped Rogue and now he has her wrapped around his little finger because he's sold her some bull about being into her, now he has to live here too? He's even got Jean believing he's a good guy and when I tried to talk some sense into her she cancelled the wedding!" Logan grunted softly as Scott passed him yet again.

"I mean, who cancels a wedding for some french-talking womanising creep she barely even knows?! What is that?! It's like he's brainwashed everyone, the girls, the Professor, everyone! The only ones on my side are the guys but who knows how long that'll last? Storm and Dr McCoy won't admit he's bad news either and they're usually so sensible – it's like everyone's gone totally insane!" Scott passed Logan again and there was a distinct twitch around Logan's left eye.

"And who is Rogue kidding? She's eating out of his hand just because he's pretending to give a shit and she's gonna get hurt when she realises that the only thing he wants from her is a ticket in here and whatever else he can get – and it's not like she has much else to offer a guy like that – " With a snarl Logan rose, turned, and slammed Scott to the wall with his claws through the shoulder of his Tshirt, effectively rendering the youth about as dangerous as a butterfly pinned to a felt board. His eyes narrowed and the shocked and frightened expression on Scott's face did nothing to quell the rage in them.

"Now you listen to me, kid, if there is one thing I will not listen to it's you talking that way about Stripes, do you understand me?" Scott swallowed and nodded quickly.

"I don't care if your ego's sore because Gumbo's got one up on you a coupl'a times, that doesn't mean anything to me and that's your score, but I will not stand back and let you poison the kids against him when Chuck's told me he trusts the guy and he deserves a chance here – they need to make their own decisions about people and if you go filling their heads with any more of this propaganda I will personally see to it that you'll be so busy scrubbing and mopping you won't have the energy to even think the word 'marriage' for the next decade!" Scott's mouth fell open.

"And if you'd listened to Jean, you'd know that Red was just trying to stop you from turning this into some kinda war between you and Gumbo for your own good – 'cause let's face it, the smart money would be on him – so unless I see you marching your ass up to her room to apologise for bein' a jerk real damn soon you, me and the Danger Room will be gettin' ta spend some real quality time together until you get the message!" Scott opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before he swallowed again and said in a dejected, obedient voice,

"Yes sir." Logan's claws retracted, releasing the youth who stood with his head bowed, waiting to be dismissed.

"I hear any trouble or any of what you said tonight coming back to me from someone else's mouth – especially one of the kids! – then you've had it. And if you can't be a responsible leader and be mature enough to let the past go, then maybe you need to start thinking about whether you belong here. If you've got a closed mind, bub, your mouth better stay that way too because I don't wanna hear it. Anything happens with Gumbo or he breaks Stripes' heart, then _I'll _deal with it. You concentrate on getting back in Red's good books because Lord knows she's the only one of you two with any sense. Now beat it, bub." Scott nodded, backing away, before turning tail and all but running out, and Logan could hear the retreating footsteps up the stairs. Grunting, he turned around and picked up his beer again, taking a swig and mulling over the way Cyclops had acted. Honestly, he understood some of the kid's issues with this new addition to the X-family, but Scott's problem was based on his petty dislike of Gambit who'd bested him in battle more than once and who had the uncanny ability to turn any woman within a ten-mile radius to a pile of consenting mush. The excuses that he was dangerous or that he'd be trouble were just smokescreens for the real issue – Scott felt threatened by Gambit and was trying his hand at classic male posturing to pump up his ego. Logan had to admit he was getting tired of it. He'd been thrilled when Jean and Scott announced their engagement since Red was able to generally point Scott in any direction she wanted and avert the crisis' that would otherwise come about, but this seemed to be more than Jean could handle.

Scott had a thing for Alvers too, Logan knew, a mixture of resentment that Alvers – who in no way matched up to Scott's ideal of what a responsible young man should be – was the object of Kitty's unwavering affection and admiration, and that the kid was in his own right a gifted leader. But the hatred Scott had been poisoning the mansion with for Gambit was deeper. Logan knew that Scott admired Rogue immensely, and part of Scott's resentment of Gambit was rooted in the fact that here was a man who had stolen Rogue from them in a time when they had needed to be there for her, her time of trouble and confusion, and taken her away, used her for his own ends, and been _forgiven_ by her. They still didn't know exactly what had passed between the two of them to make their parting on such relative good terms, but Scott had been obscenely jealous of the fact that Gambit had gotten away with treating Rogue like that when she'd likely have murdered anyone else who tried the same. Hell, sometimes you couldn't even talk to the girl without needing to count your fingers afterwards!

Logan also knew that Scott had long known that Rogue held a deep regard for him, and that he had been flattered by this although he had never intended to act on it, and Logan couldn't help but suspect that at least some of the dislike Scott bore for Gambit was also due to the fact that here was a guy who could not only get behind Rogue's difficult, often cold exterior and alleviate her anxieties about trusting human nature, but who didn't seem to mind the fact that he couldn't touch her for any extended period of time and who managed to make it work anyway. To Logan, Stripes might as well have been his own daughter. He honestly loved the kid more than he had ever thought he could love another person, and he understood full well that having a girl like her, proud and independent and beautiful liking you was a definite ego boost for Summers, but he was severely disappointed in the boy for not being able to be happy for her that she'd found someone who made _her_ happy and didn't tiptoe around her powers or her issues the way he tended to. Obviously, Gumbo was an unconventional Prince Charming, and Logan would be on his guard to ensure he treated Stripes with all possible respect, but as far as he had witnessed and heard – mostly from Half-Pint, who'd been kind enough to agree to give him full reports on all things pertaining to the matter - Gumbo seemed almost slavishly devoted to Rogue, and he actually managed to make her smile and keep her that way.

While Scott Summers had been flattered by Rogue's admiration and had been one of those most dedicated to bringing her round to their cause in the beginning, he wasn't right for Stripes and he had no hope of ever understanding her. While Gambit had committed a cardinal sin by abducting Rogue and attempting to use her to save the man who as far as Logan understood had basically ruined Remy's entire life up to the point where Gambit had renounced his life with him and set out alone, he understood Stripes, and she in turn seemed to blossom in his presence in such a way that Logan couldn't stay angry at the boy for long in the face of the marvellous effect he had on the girl Logan saw as his own child.

Ororo and he had discussed the matter at length, whether or not it was safe to trust the boy with Rogue, fragile as she was, and they had reached the conclusion that as long as they had both known the girl, she had been afraid of her abilities and of the world and had locked herself away, giving as little to it as she could get away with and often coming to a bad end when she did more than simply exist in the company of others. Gambit's influence was akin to the door being opened to the Rogue she could be, and that could only be a good thing. Charles had assured them that as far as he could tell Remy's intentions were honourable in the extreme, and Logan was forced to bow to the fact that his Stripes was happy and well and that the boy seemed to go out of his way to care for her. Of course, he'd still be the first in line to hunt him down and kill him should he ever decide to hurt Rogue, but for now he was content to let them be and merely observe and guide their interactions. He had promised Charles he would be an example of self-restraint in so far as beating on the kid was concerned, and he fully intended to limit himself to his role of father-figure. After all, he doubted Stripes would forgive him if he drove away the one person apart from himself who knew what she was going through.

He heard scrapings outside and flattened himself against the wall next to the kitchen door, ears alert to any sound, and the one that reached him was a delightful one. It was Rogue, laughing softly.

"Tink y' Wolverine's gon' kill me f' keepin' y' out dis long?" he heard the Cajun charmer whisper, and Rogue's muted reply of,

"No, he'll understand... We had ta make sure Wanda was doin' alraght after all she's been through lately..." The Cajun made a noise of assent and Logan smiled. Good to know he still inspired a certain element of fear in the kids no matter how old they got.

"_Chere_... Let's get y' inside," Remy said, and the kitchen door opened, Remy holding it open for Rogue gallantly and closing it after her. She was wearing his trench coat and a huge smile. Logan struck up his 'disappointed Daddy' pose, beer in hand.

"It's late, bub," he growled, and Rogue threw her arms around his neck with a beaming smile that completely diffused his intention to be a little scary. Instead, he hugged her back.

"Wanda was kinda freakin' out that she couldn' fahnd Pyro an' her room didn' look lahke she remembered it – took a while ta calm her down but she's okay now – I said she could call here if she needed anythang, is that alraght?" Stripes pulled back, her eyes full of concern and worry, and Logan sighed and smiled a little.

"Okay, Stripes, you can turn off the charm. You know I care about that little witch as much as you do. An' Gumbo?" Remy looked at him steadily as though awaiting punishment.

"Nex' time the girls decide ta yak on f' hours, gimme a call so I don' think somethin' bad's happened to 'em – I don' expect you ta be able t' get 'em home, but call an' let me know. I know what they're like once they get to doin' the yakkin' routine..." Remy smiled, and nodded.

"_Oui_, I will." Logan let go of Rogue and ruffled her bangs a little.

"Alright, now scoot you two, it's too late to be up – an' y' better not let me catch you sneakin' around up there or I'll have you both on kitchen duty!" Remy grinned and nodded again, stepping back to allow Logan his 'father-daughter good night time', and Logan sent the kid an appreciative look. Clearly he was no idiot.

"Hey, Stripes, what did Wanda want with that firebug anyhow?" he asked Rogue in an undertone, and Rogue smiled and shrugged.

"She was jus' freakin' out 'cause she didn' think he was in his room an' he said he wasn' gonna be out all naght – turns out he was catchin' Z's an' that's why he didn' hear her knockin'. Think she jus' needed ta have everyone home so it felt normal again, ya know?" He nodded and patted her arm affectionately.

"Yeah, sure. Good night Rogue," he said quietly, and she smiled even wider.

"'Naght Logan!" Turning, she ran the two steps to Remy and caught his hand under cover of the coat and Remy turned his head slightly as she pulled him away, checking Logan's reaction. The Canadian nodded imperceptibly and Remy's eyes glowed red before the young couple vanished from sight. Shaking his head with a scratchy chuckle, Logan tossed his bottle into the recycling bin and left the kitchen, turning off the light as he did so.

"Mus' be gettin' soft," he muttered.

_**~**************************************************************~**_

"... _c'mon_ Remy, please..?" he groaned while she giggled, the sound muffled in his hair, and he kissed her again, letting her push him against her door, praying no one else could hear them.

"_Chere_... I gotta..." He'd donned his trench coat again and she was slipping her arms around him under it, he felt her edge up his shirt and the soft, thin leather of her gloves against his skin. He could feel her nails through them, scraping a little...

"Aw, just a little..?" her tone was wheedling, but in the breathy, sultry way only she could manage with him, and he tried to pull his hands away from her but he might as well have been attempting to lift the Eiffel Tower. She was pressed against him, standing between his legs, and he suddenly forgot that he was supposed to be trying to be quiet because she'd found that place just below his jaw that was guaranteed to make him agree to absolutely anything she wanted. Moon on a chain? Sure – soon as the galaxy was looking the other way he'd get it for her. His heart on a platter? Certainly, rare or medium-well? Sleep in her room with her when he had express orders to not do so from more violent places? Fuck...

"Don't ya wanna..?" Her leather-clad hand crept to his hip and he heard her voice in his ear, knew she was manipulating him, knew what he should say but also what that would lead to, and what the consequences of that would be... He caught her hand and raised it to his lips, reading the victory in her eyes.

"_Chere_, I'd do anytin' f' y', but d' y' wan' me t' get caught in here in de mornin' an' get kicked out on m' ass? Y' know I sleep too damn well when I'm wit' y', I'd never get out before dey came lookin'..." there was a certain desperation to his logicising that he knew she recognised, and she sighed dramatically and stepped back a little to allow him to clear his head. It didn't really help with her stood there looking all disappointed and – rumpled – for lack of a better term...

"Ah guess... Urgh, alraght, Ah don' want them kickin' you out when y' only jus' got here..." The look he gave her was one of utter dejection and she giggled a little.

"Ah know ya wanna stay here jus' as much as Ah wan' ya to, sugah," she said softly, knowing he understood the double entendre in her words. He made a noise of discontent and ran two fingers along her jaw, leaning in to kiss her briefly before saying,

"Good night, _mon ami de_ _cœur..._" and turning to leave. She went as far as the door with him and watched him while he strode down the hallway, for all he looked imposing and ws wearing boots he made not a sound on the polished hardwood flooring. He went to the end of the corridor before he heard the faint click he knew was her closing her door and the two next clicks he knew were her locks. She wasn't paranoid, she claimed, just careful. He smiled at the memory, how defensive she'd looked when he asked about them. She's just thrown it back at him and said it wasn't as if they would stop _him_, and he had to agree. He doubted there was much in the world that would stop him from getting to his Rogue if he wanted to be near her. Well... maybe Wolverine was one of the few things that could still get in the way. But he was like any other father, Remy reasoned. He'd be angry for a while but he'd get used to the idea once he realised that Remy was every bit as committed to Rogue's happiness as he was. Every bit.

_**~*********************************************************~**_

She stood in front of her mirror assessing herself. She was wearing one of her tight vinyl miniskirts and thin, opaque black tights, her arms were encased in a simple long-sleeved black Tshirt and her gloves were snugly fitted around her wrists to prevent accidents. She'd brushed her hair and applied her eyeliner, winging it out to follow the swoop of her long black lashes at the edges of her eyes, lightly shadowing the very corners with a silvery, iridescent powder and graduating the darkness of the eyeshadow so that winged out as well to follow the line she'd painted. Her lips were a deep, almost rosy purple that reminded her of unripe blackberries and the look was dramatic but not as introspective as her usual ensemble. She didn't feel as trapped in her own treacherous skin like this. Deciding it was fine the way it was she stepped into her heavy, battle-scarred, steel-capped combats and tied them, leaving her room with a spring in her step that didn't exactly give onlookers cause to suspect that together, her boots weighed in at an extra four kilos. She fairly danced downstairs to the kitchen, passing her brother on the way, who reached out to catch her arm.

"Rogue, don't – " She shook him off, not understanding the concern on his face, and backed in the door to the kitchen, Kurt following her. She felt her back touch someone and turned around, Kurt catching on to her shoulders for some reason. As she got a good look at what was going down in the kitchen, she understood all too well why her brother was ready to restrain her. Remy was backed up by the sink with what appeared to be the mansion's entire group of young single females practically devouring him on the spot, and he looked most of all to be a tad aggravated. Not a morning person, then. Well neither was Rogue. Kurt's hands on her shoulders tightened, and she took a deep breath.

"Like, why did you decide to come here, Remy?" Amara asked, her voice dripping barely concealed attraction, and Jubilee shot her a dirty look.

"Yeah, I mean, you used to work for Magneto, right?" she chipped in, and Remy closed his eyes for a moment. This gave Rahne an in.

"Did you come here because he did, Remy?" Remy opened his eyes again and saw Rogue standing by the doorway, her face betraying her annoyance at the way they'd ganged up on him. There was no mistaking the way they were standing, the hair-flicking, the wheedling tones they were using, the way they were surreptitiously eyeing him – they were on the pull each and every one of them and it pissed Rogue off.

"Non, _petites_, Remy came here t' be wit' _ma chere Rogue_. If it weren' f' her he'd be back home righ' now," Remy said firmly, reaching out a hand that the girls all stared at as though wondering who'd get to touch it first if they all leapt for it at the same time like a ball thrown up at game time. Kur gave Rogue a subtle push and released her, and she took a step forward the led to another one and pushed through the girls, deciding to do something she'd never thought she'd be able to do. Gloat. Taking his hand, she leaned in and kissed him quickly, looking round at the girls with a magnanimous smile.

"Mornin' sugah, mornin' y'all!" she said cheerily, enjoying the shocked looks she was being treated to. Amara recovered first.

"Morning Rogue, we were just asking Remy why he decided to come here," she said perkily, and Rogue looked at Remy who was wearing his all-knowing, almighty smirk, and he tipped her a wink.

"Oh, really?" Rogue asked, sarcasm lacing her tone, and Jubilee sprang forward with the air of someone who knows she's done a fellow woman a potential wrong and wishes to make amends before she reserves herself a place in hell for it.

"Yeah, I mean, Magneto's not here anymore so we were wondering if maybe that was why Remy was here now," she said, too quickly, and Rahne jumped in, nodding.

"Professor X said Mr. Lehnsherr was goin' ta be away fer a long time," she added, and Rogue shrugged, turning to pour herself a cup of coffee.

"Ah wouldn' know. Ah don' think this is the bes' place f' him now that Wanda's got her memories back," she said calmly, and the girls fell to gossiping about the situation in te far corner of the kitchen. Remy leant in and whispered over Rogue's shoulder.

"_Chere_, y' damn near killed 'em all," he said, evidently pleased at her reaction, and she shrugged again.

"Y'all jus' be grateful Ah didn' get the wrong idea, okay sugah? Ah am not a mornin' person either an' Ah don' lahke havin' ta see mah man gettin' drooled over by a bunch o' kids," she said sharply, but quietly enough that the younger girls couldn't hear her words, and he sighed, his face as sincere as his voice was contrite.

"_Chere_, y' know I love y' – y' can' blame dem f' bein' no match f' my charm," he said, and she smiled.

"Don't ya know anythin' about women, Swamp Rat? Ah can blame you for bein' charmin'. Problem solved." She turned to join the girls and Remy groaned to himself and decided to strike up an initmate relationship with his own coffee. This was prevented by the fuzzy blue creature who was suddenly perched on the kitchen counter chortling away to himself.

"Oh, my sister has you beat," he chuckled, and Remy pieced things together. Yes, the blue one, adopted brother, Kurt. Mornings sucked.

"_Oui, mon ami_. She does," he snapped, and Kurt sighed and clapped him on the shoulder in a friendly sort of way. Remy noticed the odd way his hands were designed and Kurt jerked his hand back, the expression on his face turning from amused and sympathetic to borderline upset. Remy shook his head and fixed the other mutant with a pointed stare, understanding in an instant.

"Y' don' gotta feel bad f' nothin', _mon ami_. Y' jus' as normal as de res' of us," he said quietly, and Kurt smiled at him.

"Back at you," he said, his exuberance restored, and Remy took a fortifying swig of coffee as he watched Rogue laughing with the girls who seemed to be questioning her thoroughly.

"You really like her, don't you?" Kurt asked, his tail curled around his coffee cup as he nodded towards his sister, and Remy looked at him as though he were mad.

"Like her? _Like?_ Dat's de understatement of de millenium," he said derisively and Kurt just grinned at him, exposing fangs.

"Your _petite sœur _be de _le plus importants_ ting in dis 'ere Cajun's life, _elle est fantastique, une merveille de beauté, tout à fait charmant, une ange. Je t'aime ta sœur _more dan anytin' in dis worl'," Remy said hotly, and Kurt gave him an appraising look.

"Y' understand dat?" Remy asked, and Kurt winked at him.

"I understand de important bits," he said lightly, and Remy smiled.

"_Bon_. So, _mon ami velu_, what's t' do roun' dis place?" Kurt transferred his coffee to his hand and adjusted his hair with his tail. Remy eyed the dextrous appendage with appreciation.

"Damn _homme_, dat ting be _tres habile_," he remarked, and Kurt looked puzzled for a minute before he waved his tail.

"This thing? Yeah, it comes in handy every now and then," he shot back with another wink, and Remy chuckled and raised his mug in a casual salute.

"I can tell y' be one _homme_ dis Cajun will be drinkin' wit' in de future," he laughed, and Kurt joined in, none of them noticing the glowing look Rogue sent them.

_**~************************************************************~**_

"So you're like, a thief? Seriously? You steal stuff?" Ray's eyes were as wide as dinner plates and Remy rolled his own eyes subtly.

"_Oui, mon ami_, dat is de definition of a t'ief, _non?_" he smiled at the younger youth and Berzerker snickered, looking more than a little sheepish.

"Okay, so like, what have you ever stolen?" Sam asked, and Gambit shrugged. The gesture was ghosted by a distinct sigh from the direction of the girls.

"Ev'rytin', anytin', don' matter. Y' got it, Gambit can take it from y'. F' de righ' price, o' course," he said, and Bobby, who had relaxed his attitude towards him a little, seemed to consider the possibilities.

"But – that means you can get in anywhere too," he said as it dawned on him that there was more to thieving than he had originally realised, and Gambit nodded.

"Oui. Anywhere. Don' matter what de security is," he said, and Sam piped up,

"Could you steal someone's wallet too then?" Gambit looked at him incredulously and actually burst out laughing.

"What? What's so funny?!" Gambit wiped his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Homme, i's better y' don' know," he said, still fighting the chuckles, and one of the girls – the little redhead with the accent – asked,

"Could you take somethin' someone was wearin'?" Gambit nodded.

"Sure. If y' know how, it ain' hard," he said with a shrug, and then glanced upward at the balcony where Rogue was watching him. She gave him a 'don't move on my account' wave and he smiled at her. Damn but she was gorgeous. She'd left after breakfast with her brother to do something or other and he'd been stuck regaling the X-kids with his life story, greatly edited. He had to admit, he liked her brother quite a bit. The guy was fun, genuine, and loved Rogue about as much as he did, albeit in a very different way.

"Gotta be goin'," he excused himself to the kids and they set up a chorus of protests that made him glad he didn't plan to spend that much time in their company.

"Awww, c'mon, show us how you do it!" Ray pleaded.

"Yeah, unless you can't really," Bobby added snidely, earning him a joint-effort glare from the girls.

"He doesn't have to if he doesn't want to, Bobby," Jubilee said haughtily, and Roberto nodded.

"I believe him, he doesn't have to prove it," he said calmly, and Remy turned around, pulled out four wallets, a pair of earrings and a heart pendant on a chain and said,

"Any of y' know who dese belong t'?" Bobby stared in shock, Roberto hid a smile behind his hand, and Ray exclaimed,

"Dude, that is so _awesome!_" The girls squealed in chorus, Rahne darting to the fore to retrieve her pink spotted wallet, her eyes shining with hero-worship.

"And that's my necklace!" Jubilee cried, nearly swooning when Remy handed it over, the guys content to have their respective wallets thrown to them as Remy bowed shallowly and retreated up the stairs to where his Rogue was waiting with cocked hips and folded arms, her lips twisted into a wry smile. He caught her hand and twirled her as though they were dancing, pulling her in to his chest and kissing her softly.

"Always so dramatic sugah?" she asked with a grin, and he smiled at her, his eyes drinking her in as he said,

"Well _chere_, when dere's a payin' audience y' gotta give dem sometin' ta look at... An' I don' know anytin' wort' lookin' at more 'n y'..."

_**~***********************************************************~**_

"Jean..? Can I come in?" He waited for a reply with bated breath, hoping she would accept his apology and that they could just go back to the way things were. Scott Summers did not deal well with emotional upheaval in his life.

"Come in..." the reply was muffled and he opened the door to see Jean Grey sitting by her dressing table scrubbing at her face with a tissue. He entered and closed the door behind him, approaching her hesitantly.

"What do you want?" she demanded, hicupping slightly, and he looked down at his shoes. They had no answers for him.

"I – I wanted to apologise... I was a jerk, and I should have listened to you... Can you forgive me?" Jean bit her lip and ceased wiping at her eyes with the ragged tissue.

"Scott, you walked away from me," she said, almost petulantly, and he sighed and came to kneel in front of her, taking her hands in his.

"I know, I shouldn't have done that... I'm so sorry sweetie, the only thing I want is to marry you and start our family, nothing else matters to me. You're my whole world, Jean... Please forgive me."

"You promise you won't let anything come between us again?"

"I promise," he said sincerely, and she narrowed her now-puffy green eyes.

"Even Gambit?" He nodded.

"Even him. Nothing gets in the way, I promise you. And if you can still stand being engaged to this jerk, will you come to dinner with me like we were supposed to last night? Make it up to you?" She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, and he thanked God silently for inspiring Logan to knock some priorities straight for him. This was all he wanted. Nothing could stand in their way.

_**~****************************************************************~**_

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**_As always, drop me a PM or mention it in the review if you require translations, I'll be only too happy to oblige._**


	31. Everything That Can Go Wrong

_**DISCLAIMER: I have purchased a brand new battleaxe. I am now broke, but happy. That's all I own though, everything else was sold to make way for the aquisition of this marvelous heavy sharp object with which I shall parade around frightening people for very little reason.**_

_**(I have returned from my holiday well-rested and minus about ten lesions in my hands - the healing is going well they tell me, and the smell of decaying flesh is lessening day by day so let's hear it for modern medicine! The natty silver rings stay in until there is no more angry red discolouration but they assure me that there is progress so huzzah for moi. Now, I should like to thank those of you who have been there for me during this difficult, creatively frustrating time, to all of you, thank you so very much, I am convinced that your support and in some cases virtual gifts and cookies have been instrumental in my recovery and I cannot thank you enough. Irual, I have been oh-so-good, and therefore I hope you are well, still remember who I am, and will enjoy this platform to greater hilarity. You are a star. Laceylou76, my little angel you've been marvellous so here's some fluffiness and I promise you, there will be epic Romy in the next update. After all, there've been promises, non? ^^ TitansRule, I'm afraid there's no Scooter-bashing in person here but there's a good deal of hatred directed towards him so that'll have to do ^^ I really hope you like this and please tell me if you see any flaws in my French grammar! Dragonfly422, here it is, the long awaited update! I hope you like this too^^ Ashmanda my darlin', here I am, back from the dead, bearing gifts and hoping to the Gods that you still love me because if not I'd just have ta sit my arse down and cry! Hope you're keepin' well sugah, Ah missed you somethin' awful! tfobmv18, here's the update, sorry for the holdup XD rogue-scholar-07 thankies and I hope you like this too! ANON! MY BABY! *attacks you and hugs you senseless then realises this may be embarrassing you* Ehem. I missed you. Is it showing? XD I hope you like this my dear, I tried my best for you... cougarrose47, thank you so very much, aren't you kind?? The answer is yes, yes you are, and I hope you enjoy this. Finally, my dear LadyMageLuna, thank you for being there through all this and for being so kind. To you all, a fond thank you and my undying gratitude and highest esteem.)**_

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_**~ Scarlet Letter ~**_

_**Everything That Can Go Wrong...**_

_**~****************************************************************~**_

She felt so warm and heavy that for a moment she considered whether or not she was unwell. And then she remembered. The shock of the realisation jerked her into a sitting position and, half-blind, she felt arms settle around her and panicked. Her fear was roaring in her ears so loudly that it took a few seconds of struggling before she heard the soft voice in her ear.

"... Wanda... Shhh... It's okay. I promise, you're alrigh'..." Turning her head she looked into eyes as blue and unpredictable as the seas, and saw innumerable treasures hidden there. Yet more realisation hit her, and she moved herself around to embrace him, her arms throbbing but less important than feeling him within their circle, and he held her in return, the fear dissipating.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she said breathlessly, and he chuckled a little and kissed her cheek.

"Wanda luv, I already told ya. There ain' nothin' ya can do that'll ever hurt me," he said calmly, and she drew back from their hug to kiss him, needing to see if what she remembered from the night before held true still. When he broke it after what seemed an age, the fire coursing through her veins was all the proof she needed that it held.

"What's wrong, luv?" he asked quietly, stroking back her hair, and she shrugged, kissing him again.

"I just... needed to see if it still felt the same..?" she said, her tone questioning, and her eyes uncertain, and he gathered her closer to him and kissed her again, the gesture almost seeming an invasion of her soul but without being one. Invasion wasn't generally something you welcomed and enjoyed like nothing you had ever felt before.

"Doesn't it?" he asked, and she nodded.

"It does... How about you?" He smiled, stifling a laugh, and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Darlin', if I said I reckoned it wouldn' ever stop feelin' like this, would that rate as creepy?" She shook her head and giggled.

"No, I'd say it had better feel that way and if that scares you then you just need to deal!" His grin was all the answer she needed.

"John?"

"Yes luv?"

"Do you want to tell the others yet or..?" she was biting her lip and he kissed her again to make her stop.

"Darlin' – Wanda – if you'd let me announce it on national television and put a huge bloody statement in all the papers about it, it still wouldn't be enough. Damn it woman, the whole world oughta know what a lucky bastard I am!" he was laughing now, and it was entirely infectious for all she disapproved of such notions of publicising their relationship.

"Well, could we maybe tell the guys first? And Kitty and Rogue? I think they're really our main priorities, and Pietro might be upset if he had to find out by seeing us on TV, don't you think?" John sighed dramatically and swept her into his arms, rising from the bed and kissing her yet again.

"Wanda, whatever makes you happy, that's what'll happen. But ya better believe I'm not gonna be anythin' less than completely obvious about how much I love ya," he said seriously, and she giggled at him.

"I think they'll catch on when they see you toting me around like in some Shakespearian play," she replied, and he raised an eyebrow and lowered her to the floor so that she was standing before tilting her backwards in a dramatic swooping motion worthy of the silver screen and intoning in a deeply melodramatic voice,

"Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn..."

**_~**********************************************************~_**

Remy and Rogue – despite not being morning people – had settled on leaving the mansion to go and check on Wanda – despite it being merely an excuse to get away from the X-kids on Remy's part, and it being an excuse to ask Wanda the deal with John on Rogue's part – and so they pulled up in the Brotherhood driveway at approximately ten to eleven that morning, thoroughly expecting the boys to be still abed. Remy gallantly opened the locked door for his Rogue to avoid having to wake anyone up, although the disparaging look she gave him at his unorthodox entry-gaining methods put a slight damper on his already dim morning spirits.

"Why can't ya jus' knock like a normal person y' damn thief?" she grumbled, and he closed the door behind them and slung his arm around her shoulders, ignoring her less than sunny disposition the best he could.

"Don' wanna wake dem dat shouldn' be woken, _chere_," he said patiently, leading her through to the kitchen and opening the door for her again, his reasoning being that more coffee was the solution to his situation. Rogue's gasp alerted him to the reality that a great deal more coffee would be needed than he had first assumed. Ducking around her, he couldn't contain an overly smug grin at the sight of Wanda hastily detaching herself from a certain Australian and step away, arms wrapping around her waist in that odd position insecure women favoured.

"Gods, Rogue, what the hell?!" Wanda mumbled, still managing to make the words cut through the room like knives, and Rogue held up her hands to appease her embarrassed friend.

"Wanda, Ah am so sorry!" she said, and the other girl just shook her head, refusing to look her in the eyes.

"Whatever..." she said, her tone harder than Remy believed she wanted it to be, and he glaced at John who nodded and put a subtle hand on Wanda's elbow, smiling at Remy and Rogue.

"Aw, come off it luv," he said good-naturedly,

"Ya can' be like that this early in the mornin' – it's not even twelve yet!" and, miraculously, Wanda turned her head to look at him and broke into a stunning smile before making her way over to Rogue and giving her a hug.

"I know, I'm sorry honey, okay? I just keep thinking – I mean, I'm sick of feeling like I can't do whatever I want in my own house without worrying about being barged in on and all of this and you know – you know?" Rogue just laughed and hugged her back, and while they were embracing John jerked his head at Remy and the two former Acolytes made themselves scarce.

Once in the hallway, they migrated from there to the living room, Remy waiting until they were both seated on opposing armchairs before he broke into a wide, hardly pre-noon grin that spoke of many years of rising to the occasion.

"So, Johnny-boy – finally got t'rough t' de _petit belle friponne, hein?_" he asked with a suggestively raised eyebrow, and John raised his own in a rather less positively charged gesture.

"Oh, _mon ami_, y' don' tink Remy – _non!_ I didn' mean – "

"Come off it mate, wouldn' tell ya even if I had done y' daft bastard!" John snorted, and Remy shrugged and sipped his coffee, then turned a less ostentatious version of the grin on his friend again.

"But y' did talk t' de _femme, non?_ Even though y' weren' doin' s' much talkin' when we got 'ere," he asked, and John smiled, the first truly contented smile Remy thought he had ever seen on the Aussie's face.

"Yeah... we talked about it. Ev'rythin'. Hell, she knows things now even you don'," John laughed a little, shaking his head, and Remy scooted a little on his chair, gazing intently at the Australian.

"An' it's all good now? She understands?" he asked, needing to be able to assure Rogue of the success of the thing later on when questioned.

"She does. She understands. Don' even think she holds it agains' me, which is some kind o' relief fer me, I gotta tell ya!" Remy smiled, relieved, as John stared off into the distance somewhere over Remy's head, eyes soft and warm.

"She's a good woman, Johnny-boy. Y' damn lucky. Long as y' good t' her, don' see why y' can' ride off into de sunset t'gether yet," the Cajun said sincerely, and his friend focused on him once again.

"I reckon you haven' done s' bad f' yerself either, eh mate?" Remy chuckled into his coffe, warming his ungloved hands on the mug which read 'How Do I Like It? Blacker Than The Blackest Black Times Infinity'.

"Yeah, Rogue be de only ting in de worl' could make me go an' stay wit' de X-Men _mon ami_... I swear, dey be de mos' annoyin' bunch o' people – de kids won' shut up an' de adults won' leave y' alone f' ten seconds – it be worse dan prison!" he complained, and John grimaced.

"Leas' they bathe regularly down your end mate – an' y' get three square meals a day f' nothin'. Ev'rythin' that gets done round 'ere only gets done because Wanda either does it or says she wants it done. I didn' know what squalor mean' before I ended up here!" Remy shook his head sadly.

"_Ma Tante_ would cry if she saw dis place, _mon ami_... An' den she would kill dem," he said wryly, and John laughed.

"I tell ya mate, I'm glad as hell I don' 'ave a family sometimes. Ain' nothin' I hate more than Sheilas in aprons tellin' a bloke ta clean up." Remy's face shifted into nostalgic folds, and John raised an eyebrow.

"Please, Rem'. No anecdotes before noon. I can' take it," he pleaded, and the Cajun scowled at him.

"Fine! Have y' way den!" The Aussie just shook his head, chuckling.

"Don' take it out on me mate," he said pointedly,

"It ain' my faul' ya hate that bloody place and it ain' my faul' ya scared o' losin' Rogue ta them." Remy's eyes widened as his mouth worked, brain undecided as yet as to whether protest, insult, or just yelling was the proper response to John's accusation. The sudden change in tone of their formerly lighthearted chat wasn't easy to get around either.

"_Merde!_ Y' tink I – _merde_, Johnny! 'M not – "

"Don' gimme that ya goddamn liar. Takes one ta know one mate an' it's written all over you," John said tartly, and Remy jolted back as if he'd been struck.

"I..."

"You're afraid o' losin' her ta them. You're still afraid she'll decide ya don' belong an' throw you out on your arse. Ya didn' think pas' gettin' in and now you're in ya don' 'ave a clue, do ya?" Remy closed his eyes and threw back his head, sighing deeply.

"I hate y', _homme_. How d' y' know dat? Y' don' know shit." John just shrugged.

"I know y' not as happy as y' pretendin' ta be. Y' keep fergettin' I 'ad ta bloody live with ya all that time you were sighin' after the Sheila! I know ya. So don' pull all that crap wi' me. I'll know." Remy slitted his eyes and glared at his friend.

"Still hate y'... But y' righ'. I don' tink I knew what I was walkin' int' when I signed up f' dis. I t'ought... I don' know. Y' tell me, since y' know ev'ry'tin," he said, more than a tad disgruntled, and John mulled it over for a moment, stalling by hiding behind his tea.

"Y' thought y' could jus' waltz in, win fair lady's 'eart an' it'd be a done deal," John said finally, and Remy snorted.

"Yeah, 'cause 'm a fool, righ'?" he asked sarcastically, and John nodded.

"That, an' y' were too caught up in how ya fel' abou' the Sheila. Ya weren' plannin' ahead. An' now y' don' know where it goes from the winnin' poin' an' let me tell ya mate, you 'ave ta have this shit planned or you'll find y'self alone in the end. Let's face it – she ain' the most resilien' Sheila in the world now is she? Ya can' put any o' this on her. It's your show, mate. There ain' no swannin' off inta no sunset jus' because she can stand ya company."

"How de hell d' y' know dis?" Remy asked, his tone bordering on the insulting, and John just grinned.

"You migh' be great at what ya do, mate – but I've been dwellin' on it longer." Remy had to admit, John had a point. For all the Cajun was good at – as John put it – winning hearts, he was nothing to the analytic way the pyromaniac worked. It was one of the qualities Magneto had always praised in him, the ability to lay out any situation or strategy with a total lack of emotion and involvement to work out the best plan of action, or the outcome of a mission, whereas Remy was much more in tune with the facts and the likelihoods given his experience. He'd often wondered if the analysing was a by-product of all the shit going on in John all the time – maybe that was the only way he could make anything stick together and work in his head.

"How long, _mon ami?_" John shrugged again.

"I know you, an' I know what she's like. It's jus' a matter o' pullin' up y' issues an' strengths ta see what'll happen in the end. And ya did great, but now ya gotta be consistent. An' y' can' let 'er get bored or start thinkin'. An' let's face it, lastin' relationships aren' y' strongest suit, Rem'." The Cajun nodded defeat.

"I admit t' dat," he sighed.

"If ya gonna be with this Sheila for a while, ya gotta be what I believe they call _boyfriend material_. Meanin' she can still back out if ya don' live up t' the picture of what she wants in a bloke. Ask Rocky, he'll tell ya. He's out with the little Sheila up ta four nights a week, takes er anywhere an' everywhere she wants ta go, spends bloody _hours_ on the phone with her, an' never complains. An' Wanda an' your Rogue both think he's doin' a bloody fantastic job of it from what I've gathered. Apparently, it's called commitment." Remy raised both eyebrows, but then had to shake his head in assent. He knew that now that things were in place Rogue would expect him to be the stick-around kind of guy – but he'd never been that guy a day of his life. He didn't know how. John was absolutely right, when it came to commitment, the only kind the Cajun knew about at all was the commitment you made to a client in a business arrangement, and even then the code ran that any higher bidder made other offers void. So all in all he knew more about bending the concept of commitment than anything else.

"'M goin' down wit' dis ship, _non?_" he asked sadly, and John smiled.

"Not a chance mate. If Rocky can do it, there ain' no way _you_ can' handle it. I mean c'mon – y' jus' have ta deal with the Sheila's family – "

"I like Rogue's brot'er," Remy interrupted, sounding optimistic, but John just nodded absently and continued, his obvious lack of enthusiasm drowning Remy's spark completely.

"Her friends – "

"De _petit chat_ doesn' hate me, an' y' _petite belle friponne_ don' eit'er, does she?" John frowned a moment, considering the matter.

"She accepts you because ya make 'er mate a happier Sheila. An' because I told 'er I'd string you up if ya made 'er unhappy." The look on his friend's face gave reason for the added,

"Course I 'ave nothin' but faith in you, mate, nothin' but faith. Y' can do this no problem, I jus' gotta keep me own woman 'appy, it ain' personal!" Remy's eybrows knitted in a way that spoke of distinct lack of faith in John's convictions but he said nothing, just nodded for the Aussie to continue.

"That Professor, how's he feel about ya?" he asked, and Remy shrugged.

"No idea, _mon ami_. He wants Remy t' help Rogue wit' her powers but Remy don' know how dat'll work yet – we have a session dis evening – _je pense ma chere_ be nervous about dat..." John grinned.

"Trus' me, mate – speakin' as someone who's an expert on therapy, I know jus' how importan' it is ta do it with someone ya trust, an' if Xavier thinks you can 'elp y' Sheila, he's probably onta somethin'. He ain' no fool that man," he said seriously, and Remy tipped his head in the direction of the door.

"Rogue don' tink it's such a great idea," he said with a grimace, and John shrugged.

"She'll come round. Whether or not y' can 'elp, she needs someone there who won' see her diff'rently afterwards, an' knowin' you mate, you'll love 'er more f' bein' part o' helpin' 'er. Don' worry about that. Those kids givin ya grief?" Remy shook his head.

"_Non_. De _petite femmes_ be annoyin', de _petit hommes_ be aggravatin'. De real problem is dat red-eyed piece a shit an' his mission t' destroy Remy's chances wit' de ot'ers..." John narrowed his eyes and flexed his fingers.

"What I wouldn' give ta be the one ta put him out o' commission for a bit," he said, longing evident in his darkened tone and Remy nodded, more than sympathetic to his friend's desires.

"De wors' part is, Rogue use' t' be real int' de bastard," he said angrily and John raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

"Seriously? Talk about a lapse in judgemen'! 'Ow bad was it?" Remy gritted his teeth.

"Plenty bad. She spen' a _lot_ o' time wit' 'im tryin' t' fit in f' his sake – damn but dat was heartbreakin' t' watch... _Ma chere_ reduced t' dat by some pansy ass piece o' white boy scout trash..." John shuddered at the visuals he was getting and took a fortifying sip of tea.

"Bloody 'ell mate. I can' even imagine 'ow bad that must a' been for ya. But ya can' think he's got any sway wth 'er now, can ya? The way she talks he an' his Disney Princess are frontrunners of the Devil 'imself! She hates them about as much as Wanda does an' if there's one thing my Wanda does well, it's hate," John said, sounding sickened and incredulous at the idea that Scott might have any persuasive powers where Rogue was concerned. Remy shook his head sadly.

"I don' know, _mon ami_. I jus' don' know. I love _ma chere_ an' I hate dat spec-wearin' do-gooder but I promised Rogue I'd try t' get along wit' 'er friends an' not cause trouble so even if he is plannin' sometin' I can' do notin' t' stop 'im..." John scowled.

"Tell me about it... I promised Wanda I'd be civil to that damn brother o' hers an' really all I wanna do is beat him ta death with his own legs," the Aussie lamented, and Remy smiled. The mental image was priceless.

"He don' know y' an' de _petite friponne_ be _un_ _couple d'amoureux?_ What is he, _blind?_" Remy asked the question with a smile on his lips but John's glare wiped it off as surely as if it had been an illusion.

"May I remind you that nothin' was official until las' nigh' an' as far as we know none o' them 'ave even _seen_ me an' Wanda yet? Hell, they're all still asleep as far as we know! When exactly would he have 'ad the time ta catch his dear sister an' the residen' freakshow at it?" John asked with crushing patronisation in his voice, and Remy snorted.

"Johnny, de boy would _have_ t' be blind t' not know dere was sometin' between de two of y' before now! _Ce fut le coup de foudre!_ An' wasn' he de one who caught y' dat day in de bathroom t'get'er? Y' can' tell me dere wasn' sometin' goin' on dere, it was _so_ obvious, even if Speedy was exaggeratin'. Y' had de look in y' eyes so don' try t' deny it!" John rolled his eyes at that.

"Yeah, I already told ya, I kissed 'er, but 'er brother wasn' jus' exaggeratin' mate, he migh' as well 'ave been lyin' outright!" he protested, but Remy waved a scornful hand across the argument.

"De point is y' been dancin' aroun' dis f' so long now it wouldn' surprise me if y' announced y' goddamn _engagement_ an' all y' got was a nod an' a 'Get outta de way, y' blockin' de TV'," the Cajun said drily, and John sighed.

"We can' tell them until Wanda feels up to it. I promised. She ain' exactly feelin' 'er best these days an' I don' wanna get 'er all riled up over this when she should be concentratin' on gettin' better again," he explained, adding,

"Bes' I can manage is ta carry on bein' so damn obvious you'd 'ave ta be deaf, blind an' plain _stupid_ not ta see it. Leastways she hasn' vetoed that one yet," he complained, and Remy grinned.

"De tings we do f' love, _non?_" he asked with twinkling eyes, and John groaned.

"I tell ya though, if that whiny streak o' piss she calls 'er twin says one word I ain' responsible f' what I'll do to 'im," he warned, and Remy chuckled.

"Sounds fair, _mon ami..._"

_**~****************************************************************~**_

"So... y'all worked things out, huh?" Rogue asked awkwardly, and Wanda shrugged.

"Yeah... yeah, we did..." Rogue looked at her friend's face, the slightly flushed cheeks, the tired eyes, and her tone softened and morphed into concern. She'd been through hell in the space of a week and it was showing.

"Are ya sure ya wanna be doin' this after all you've been through lately sugah? Ah mean, it ain' lahke he'll be goin' anywhere if you just wanna wait an' see," she asked tentatively, and Wanda smiled sadly.

"You're wrong. He was planning on leaving. He actually planned on getting out before any of this but he got involved and then it was too late," she said, sounding tired, and Rogue's eyes widened.

"Sugah, if he was gonna leave ya then you don' owe him a thing! Tell me ya ain' jus' doin' this ta keep him around!" Wanda's head snapped up and her eyes filled with disgust at the suggestion, her voice mirroring the emotion they displayed.

"No! Of course I'm not! I wouldn't do that – what do you take me for? Do I look that sad and desperate to you?!" Anger was peeking through and Rogue shook her head, attempting to calm her friend before she was prompted to use her powers again when she should be resting.

"No, no, sugah that ain' what Ah'm sayin' at all! Ah jus' worry about you, okay? Ah know that if Remy up an' tol' meh he were plannin' on leavin' meh Ah'd do just about anythang ta keep him here, Ah jus' wanna make sure you're comfortable goin' into this the way you two have!" Wanda's disbelieving snort almost hurt.

"If I didn't want to be doing this then I wouldn't be doing it Rogue! We talked about everything, he told me everything. I know why he did what he did – and I don't care! None of that stuff matters to me, not the issues, not what he went through with my father, none of it matters to me. John was honest with me and he told me he'd been planning to leave so that I wouldn't have to face him after what we'd been through together. He didn't want me to have to deal with another person who'd betrayed my trust like that. Then when I broke down it was too late and do you know something? When I woke up in that awful godforsaken place you people call a medical bay the first thing I saw was him and I thought he was dead! And do you know what I felt? I wasn't angry, I didn't hate him, I wasn't happy he was gone. I felt like I had wasted the chance to _be_ happy, let it slip through my fingers and lost it forever because I thought I'd lost him..." Rogue was completely speechless and so she did not comment and Wanda continued talking, the hurt in her eyes turning to pain unimaginable and then to something Rogue had never seen in Wanda before.

"I realised that I felt something for him that I didn't know how to explain and it was so scary... I always thought that the fairytales had it right and it scared me when I realised it was all a bunch of crap and that in the real world love is just a confused mess," Wanda said with the hint of a smile in her voice.

"I was afraid to tell him what I thought I was feeling because I wasn't sure and I didn't want to find out that it was a lie or a dream... I wanted... I don't know what I wanted," she didn't seem to notice the tears that were making their way down her cheeks but Rogue reached out and wiped them away gently, knowing that what Wanda was trying to describe was the feeling of needing another person, the way Rogue was beginning to suspect she needed Remy. That feeling that as long as they were close to you, everything would be alright...

"You wanted him to know, sugah... Maybe tell you what you were really feelin'?" she asked, and Wanda nodded, smiling through the tears that weren't done falling yet.

"I guess... Rogue... He makes me feel alive..." she whispered, and the other Goth couldn't contain her own tears anymore and wrapped Wanda in a tight hug, stroking her hair as they cried together.

"Ah know, honeypie, Ah know... Ah'm so sorry for everythang that's happened, Ah'm so sorry Ah haven't been around for you more... You're in love with him, aren't you?" the Southerner asked, and Wanda raised her head from the other girl's shoulder and bit her lip before saying,

"I think I am... I really think I am..."

"Oh, honeypie... Ah knew it... An' what does he say to all this? He knows, raght? Ah mean, you told him?" Wanda nodded, taking a deep breath and saying,

"He loves me too..." There was a moment of complete silence as Rogue processed this information and then the Southern Gothic gave the only appropriate response one could give in any situation where a girl's best friend tells her that the man of her dreams is equally in love with her and it is officially _on_. She screamed.

_**~*****************************************************************~**_

In the other room, John and Remy leapt up as a joint unit and raced each other to the kitchen to see what the cause of all the screaming was and found an ecstatic pair of jumping, hugging Goths in the middle of the floor crying and squealing their elation to high heaven.

"_Merde_, Rogue, y' gave me a heart attack dere, I t'ought sometin' was wrong!" the Cajun said angrily, more from the fact that they were indeed safe and sound and that he had been frightened beyond what he had assumed he would be at hearing his chere screech like that.

"Bloody hell darlin' don' ever do that again! I damn near died when you lot started with the yellin'," John snapped, and the two girls just stopped jumping and laughed at the consternation of their respective men.

"We're fine, were just happy," Wanda said with a smile that knocked John's perception of beauty to next Thursday and set entirely new standards for others to measure up to. Impossibly high ones. Rogue just giggled and somehow flowed towards Remy and twined herself around him, managing to simultaneously turn him into a puddle of lovesick goo and rocket him to heaven.

"Calm down sugah, we're jus' celebratin' the good news," she purred, and out of the corner of her eye saw John look questioningly at Wanda who nodded, beaming, before being treated to the Aussie's undivided and clearly thrilled attentions as they kissed. Remy chuckled and kissed her cheek.

"Whatever _ma chere_ says..." he smiled, leaning in for a kiss of their own. She closed her eyes but it never came and when she opened them to ask what the hell was taking so long she saw why. Lance was standing in the doorway with a joyous Kitty wrapped around him wearing a lacy pink thing that no doubt was part of the reason for Lance's rather self-satisfied grin. It was now officially a couples kitchen. Wanda looked torn for a moment and didn't seem to be able to decide between moving closer to John for support or pulling away from him to mask their actions but it was hardly worth it because the dawning look on Kitty's face said it all.

"Like, Oh. My. God," the diminutive Valley Girl breathed before literally launching herself into the room and catching Rogue about the throat with a one-armed hug that tore her away from Remy and towards Wanda who was enveloped in Kitty's unrelenting other arm and they were treated to a forced group hug which they embellished with more jumping and squealing. Lance settled for a manly nod in John's direction, who graciously accepted the gesture with a nod in return and Remy, exempt from the manliness for the time being, simply grinned like a fool at the girls' unbridled display of, well, _girliness_.

"Like, Lance, what are you guys like, still _doing_ here?" a flushed and excited Kitty asked her boyfriend, who looked vaguely puzzled by the question until Remy took over by approaching Rogue and giving her the kiss they'd missed out on a few minutes before.

"Have fun, _ma belle chere_," he said huskily, his tone more than implying that he's be counting the seconds until their reunion, and she blushed and fluttered her eyelashes in her embarrassment. Lance smiled proudy at Kitty and leaned in to hug his girl who giggled faintly and pecked him on the cheek before ushering him out with shooing motions of her little hands that were really quite funny. Wanda shook her head imperceptibly at John who nodded and bowed out as gracefully as he could manage, and the boys left. Kitty turned to Wanda with a wrinkled nose and suspicion in her eyes.

"As Remy would say, why did you have to like, wound him, baby?" she asked, partly mocking the Cajun, part deadly serious, and the fear in Wanda's eyes told her all she needed to know.

"I – how? What are you talking about Kit?" Wanda asked shakily, and Rogue put her arm over her shoulder and faced Kitty, warnings in her heavily lined eyes.

"Kitty, we just got done with the crying," she said quietly, and Kitty put her hands on her hips and squared up for a fight.

"Crying is fixable, this might not be. Wanda, what _was_ that just now with Pyro?" she asked sternly, and Wanda bit her lip and widened her eyes in an attempt at innocence.

"I don't – "

"First we walk in and you two are like, _so_ cute together, then you pretty much, like, confirm that you two are an item now with all the happiness, and just now you were totally cold with him! What's going on here?" Kitty asked, her expression one that spoke of deep frustration, and Wanda shrugged helplessly.

"I didn't know who was coming in, we only just told Rogue and Remy and I don't want to have to deal with the guys knowing for a while yet and I'm not comfortable with all the public stuff and – and I just – I'm a little freaked out right now, okay? We haven't even been officially together for twenty-four hours and already four people know and it's like it's today's headline or something! It's all a litle bit overwhelming right now!" Wanda may have started out as sounding rightly overwhelmed and breathless but now she was just openly angry and upset about the whole subject, and Rogue rubbing her back soothingly wasn't helping the kitchen appliances that were taking turns glowing blue. Kitty took action.

"Oh, honey... I am so sorry... Of course, I get it, it's okay, you don't have to stress this, I totally get it, I just didn't think... Calm down, okay? Let's just talk about this..." Kitty's tone and the hug she gave the trembling witch seemed to indeed have the desired calming effect and they led Wanda to a chair and made her sit down, Rogue leaning on the counter next to her, Kitty seating herself next to her on the other side.

"I was just so happy for you and then you seemed, like, totally happy too, and Rogue, and I just thought... Well..." Wanda nodded slowly, and Kitty's somewhat messy apology trailed off.

"So are you and Pyro really..? Or were we happy about something else?" Kitty asked, both of the Goths well aware that this was not a fun, rhetorical question meant to break the ice. This was Kitty being serious. Kitty didn't joke about prospective milestones on the gossip highway.

"Yes..." Wanda's voice was scratchy and still smacked of tears.

"Yes what? Because I totally need to know now or else I am going to look totally dumb in a few minutes," Kitty said with a careful smile that Wanda acknowledged but didn't reciprocate in kind.

"We're together," she clarified, and Kitty's smile grew until it nigh eclipsed the rest of her face as she lunged at Wanda, trilling ecstatically.

"I like, totally knew it! You guys are, like, such an awesome couple and I like, totally hoped you'd work things out in the end!!" she sang, and Wanda ecstricated herself gently from the smaller girl and smiled a little. Kitty's enthusiasm was lightening her previously dim view of she and John's potential future together.

"So when did all this happen? Last night, right? When you ended up in his room and you didn't come out? I totally told Lance it was okay, he wanted to go in and, like, check up on you guys but I told him to leave you alone," Kitty said in her imperial-highness voice, and Wanda smiled a little more.

"Thank you. We needed to talk about things and I don't think being interrupted would have helped much," she said honestly, and Kitty looked at her slyly.

"So, is he a good kisser?" she asked, ignoring Rogue's scandalised look and Wanda's slight flinch.

"I... I... We're not really... We haven't really done anything, Kitty. It's been a tough week," she slithered around the question and the phaser nodded with an expression that suggested she possessed infinite wisdom.

"I so understand that girl. I am right there with you. And he's okay with not telling Pietro yet?" Rogue decided it was time to step in.

"Pyro's okay with anything Wanda says," she said firmly, and Kitty shared a look with her that was more an agreement to ease up on the topic.

"I hope he is,"Wanda mumbled.

"I'm really nervous about all of this," she confessed, and Kitty smiled warmly.

"Baby I'm gonna tell you what I told Rogue; that boy is so in love with you that if you ever get a phone call from his '1001 Ways In Which I Love Wanda Maximoff' seminar wondering where their guru is getting to, don't be surprised," she said with a lighthearted wink, and Wanda shrugged.

"I believe him, I'm just... All this relationship stuff... I don't really know how it works," she said, and Rogue laughed out loud.

"Honeypie, mah boy stalked meh for almost a year an' then went on some insane crusade to prove to himself that he was worthy of meh – then he came back ta meh an' didn't have the balls ta go for it! An' let's not forget the fact that Ah am countin' the days til he gets tahred o' waitin' aroun' for some gal he can' even touch for more than two consecutive minutes," she scoffed, and Wanda nodded.

"Good point. How many countries is Remy wanted in anyway?" she asked, and Rogue shrugged.

"Ah don' wanna know," she sad honestly, and the Scarlet Witch smiled.

"I'll have to ask John who holds the record," she mused, and Kitty narrowed her eyes.

"Hold on there baby; Pyro's a wanted man?" Wanda looked at her with something akin to total and complete shock on her face but quickly tempered it to mildness again, although it was more than likely just too tiring to keep it up.

"Sure. You didn't know that?" Rogue asked, and Kitty shook her head.

"I had no idea. I mean, it's totally not a big deal that he is – Remy probably is too – but I just – I guess you, like, forget it when you spend time with them, you know? I mean, they're both really great guys!" Kitty said, smiling.

"Remy's a great cook and he's always so sweet, and Pyro is like something out of one of those movies – or one of those novels you guys read! All freaky and gentlemanly and whatnot," she giggled, and Wanda raised an eyebrow.

"Whatnot? Honey you need to spend some time away from Lance and the guys, you're starting to sound like them," she said, sounding a little worried, and Kitty tossed her ponytail.

"Well you've been using Pyro-words ever since he moved in here," she retorted, and Rogue nodded, grinning. Wanda's protests were never spoken however, because they were interrupted by a sleep-tousled, zombie version of Pietro who trudged – not generally something the illustrious Quicksilver would be seen doing but nevertheless, he trudged – into the kitchen. Closely followed by a curly silvery hodgepodge that seemed to be attached to his head.

"Morning Wanda," he mumbled, leaning in over Kitty to plant a kiss on Wanda's head and shuffling over to the coffee pot where he dumped an odd, almost syrupy half and half sugar-coffee mixture into a mug and drank deeply from it.

"Pietro, please don't leave that somewhere around the house again, if Todd gets into it we'll have to unstick his tongue from the carpet again," Wanda said absently, and her brother nodded his assent and exited the kitchen as slowly and listlessly as he had entered it.

"I give you, Pietro in the morning," she said sarcastically, breaking the spell over Rogue and Kitty who were still staring at the door in shock.

"That's Pietro in the morning?" Kitty asked, and Wanda nodded.

"He's usually up before anyone else and then he drinks that awful sugary mess and goes to fix his hair and then when he's done with the hair he's normal again," she explained, and Rogue grimaced.

"Ah don' know what's worse – the hair or that birdsnest on his head just now!" she said with distaste, and the girls dissolved into laughter.

_**~**************************************************************~**_

"You guys are not saying what I think you're saying?" Remys hateful scowl and John's rather more genial grimace rammed it home to him and Lance looked at them in shock before laughing raucously and wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.

"You're actually asking me about something like this? What happened to being the Cajun Casanova or whatever the hell you call yourself? And you, what happened to all that romance novel bull you were spewing the other day?" he asked increduously, the last part adressed to the firestarter, and John shrugged.

"Life ain' a bloody novel mate. It's why they sell so great," he explained patiently, and Remy gritted his teeth.

"An' it's de Ragin' Cajun, if y' don' mind, Rocky," he growled. John rolled his eyes.

"Don' make it worse than it is, mate. It's already embarrassin' enough havin' t' ask a bloody novice about somethin' like this," he said sharply, and Remy glared at him.

"Not in front of _l'enfant_," he grated, and John crossed his arms over his chest and huffed.

"So let me get this straight; _you two_ are asking _me_ where to take the girls out?" Lance asked, barely containing the desire to snicker violently at the two older, more experienced guys who were apparently totally inequipped to do any actual dating beyond the pick-up stage.

"Your superior knowledge of the area an' the fact that the little Sheila is on your side makes you the best candidate for this particular job. Now give us answers or prepare to die horribly," John said in as pleasant a tone as he could manage, and Lance's gaze slid to Remy who nodded, looking overly reasonable.

"He's bein' serious, _mon ami_," he confirmed, and John smiled, a hint of his alter-ego Insane Man showing. Personally Lance had thought Insane Man was a bit too unoriginal but it was all they'd had time to come up with – once they knew him a little better they could tailor the nickname to the issues.

"Yesh, I could apologise for it but I'm runnin' on three hours of sleep and my undying love for Wanda so forgive me if I'm a little testy, will you?" the Aussie asked with a distinctly sinister note to his voice. Lance decided not to tempt fate. Love in itself was a treacherous fuel in a man – love and sleep-deprivation was if possible even worse.

"Well seeing as I've been with Kitten a while now I've pretty much got the dating thing down – she insisted," he added, to excuse the potential sappiness of his extensive knowledge of dating, and the former Acolytes nodded their understanding. Kitty did seem the type who'd enjoy conventional dating.

"So all you guys have to do is outline what kind of thing you're looking for and I'll fill you in on where to go," Lance said, trying to sound as helpful as possible and ignore the light in Pyro's eyes as he fiddled with his Zippo.

"And if I'm not sure I can ask Kitten for you, you know, make it sound like I want to refresh good old times with her and get details... She's really good at that stuff!" Remy nodded, a pensive look on his face, and John snapped shut the lighter and stood up.

"Righty ho then Rocky – I'm gonna go drown my homicidal tendencies in hot water an' you an' Pokerface there draw up a battleplan," he said decisively, leaving Lance alone with Remy and more than a little confused.

"Is he..?"

"Gonna take a shower, _mon ami_, and no, he ain' really homicidal – he's been takin' de pills," Remy told the younger mutant, who breathed a not-so-covert sigh of pure relief.

"Ease up dere, boy, what's de problem?" Remy asked, a little too pleased to see Avalanche sweat after he'd been forced to ask the younger man for help with his rather pressing problem.

"I don't know man, he just freaks me out sometimes. That whole weird thing... Like Fred says, you don't know what he's going to do," Lance tried to explain, but Remy just shrugged, grinning.

"He's a good guy, _mon ami_. Relax. We all get a little high strung when we don' sleep enough, _hein?_" Lance smiled, reassured.

"I guess. Now, what are you guys going for?" Remy smiled, a slow, warm smile that spread quickly and mercilessly and swept Lance up in it's glowing, destructive path.

"Can y' do epic, boy?"

**_

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_**

**_My Shameless Pimping List: _**

_My dearest Anon Goddess and I decided long ago that pimping out good fiction is something we should all be doing, so without further ado get thine arse to her splendiferous profile, pick out anything that grabs your fancy and read, damn your eyes, read! Especially Daughter Of Destruction, her ongoing Jonda fiction which is a work of absolute art. I shall hear no argument to gainsay this statement._

_Then, thou should get thine jollies at AshmandaLC's Olde Fictione Emporiumme, where her Unstoppable fiction muct be read or else. For it is fantastic, and she is a stand up dame, whom I am greatly fond of. _

_No, this is not my equivalent of a personal ad, although if it were, I wholly agree, I am indeed lucky to know such lovely people and at the risk of sounding morally stunted, yes it does seem that I am casting a wide net when in fact I am merely very fond of them both and they are both unquestionably fine writers. _

_Yours, the finally returned Valkyrien._


	32. Will Go Wrong

_**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any characters, just the stuff I put them through now read or shove it, as you like.**_

_**Thanks go to: Everyone who hasn't thought 'Gods what a bitch that Valkyrien is for not updating this sooner, she really should be slapped for being so faithless and leaving us in the lurch', to everyone who thought 'I really hope Valkyrien updates soon and that everything is going okay with the fic because I really miss it and I really want to see everything end well', and to everyone who reviewed last time around and who has already been replied to personally but who I am perfectly willing to show my appreciation and endless gratitude for being kind enough to review for again and as many times as it takes. To those of you who have read this and been following this all this time without bothering to review even if you did enjoy it, you do know that if you want to pour shit on me you can just review anonymously and let me know, right? Because pouring shit on me indirectly by being lurkers and not bothering to take the five seconds it is to write a 'good', 'great' or 'utter bollocks' is just sad really. So all of you, delurk and show me that the traffic I'm getting is actually worth updating for and I'll write back and let you know how grateful I am that you did take that time, like all my other reviewers will tell you is my policy. All of you, lurkers and faithful readers alike, thank you and have a nice day, assuming reading what is to follow doesn't ruin it for you.**_

_**~ Scarlet Letter ~**_

_**~...Will Go Wrong~**_

_**~****************************************************************~**_

"Alright Rogue, if you'd remove your gloves please?" The Southern girl flinched at the suggestion, but the reassurance in Remy's eyes prompted her to bravery and she slipped the garment off her hand and laid it in her lap. The Professor smiled at her, and then turned his gaze to the Cajun.

"Now Remy, you realise the extent of Rogue's powers? You are completely ready for whatever may or may not happen here? Remember, noone will force you to go through with this if you do not feel able to do it – this is not a rite of passage in any way," he said seriously, and Remy nodded.

"_Ma chere_ can' hurt me, _professeur_. An' if she does, well, I'm a big boy. I wan' t' be here," he said firmly, and Rogue's tiny expulsion of breath alerted him to the fact that she had been holding it, awaiting his reply with trepidation. He wondered if she had thought that he might back out, her demeanor towards him all morning had been tense and nervous and he wanted nothing more than to tell her that to him, all that mattered was that she was happy and that they were doing what she wanted to do. He felt they ought to be asking _Rogue_ if _she_ felt comfortable with this.

"Very well then. Let us begin. Rogue, I want you to start today by concentrating very hard on something that has happened to you recently - recently enough for the memories to be fresh – something positive. Find it in your mind. Something that made you happy, it can be anything at all. When you've found something, nod once for me and try to hold on to that thought. It can be a memory, a recent purchase, a situation where you felt at peace, just allow your mind to roam and settle on whatever you feel is right..." The Professor's voice was a comforting, hypnotic drone, and Remy watched his _chere_ concentrating to find that special thing that would sustain her attempts at touch, trying so hard. The little frown between her brows was testament to how hard she was searching, how difficult it was for her to pin down a single, happy moment and hold on to it. At long last, she nodded, quickly, and the Professor looked encouragingly at Remy.

"Alright – now, Rogue, focus on that thought, pour all of your wishes for this to succeed into the thought, and focus on the happiness you felt. Focus on the happiness, focus on what you want to feel now, what you want to do with it. Channel it into your hands, a glowing light of joy under your skin, just under the surface, focus on the light, Rogue..." The Professor nodded to Remy, who turned his eyes to Rogue again. He and Xavier had discussed this – the Professor would assist Rogue in focusing her energy into her hands, and keep her mind on the task while Remy did the actual touching, allowing Rogue the full extent of her available concentration to go to keeping her powers in check.

"Now imagine that happiness expanding, growing beyond the confines of your skin to encase your hands, Rogue, the cocoon of your happiness protecting you... There is no danger to your hands, just the warmth of your joy, flowing around them, over them..." Remy reached out to Rogue and ever so gently took both her hands in his, fingers curling over hers, and she made a noise halfway to a whimper.

His empathy told him that while she was focused on her memory, she was still aware of his presence and the fear of harming him despite the Professor's aid in masking that particular emotion. He rubbed her fingers lovingly, wishing he could reach out with his gift instead of just receiving, and he delved into the emotions swirling off his Rogue as the Professor's voice became nothing more than a droning in the back of his mind. He felt shock in her, held her hands a little more firmly, the shock he felt dissipating and being replaced by what he could only describe as a tide of unadulterated joy sweeping through and over him. He blocked out everything except the feed of her emotional responses, overjoyed that she was maintaining this level of control, thrilled that she was thrilled even through her trance-like haze of focus.

And then, just when he was certain that she'd be able to hold it forever, when he felt her focus and her happiness peaking, he started to feel the soft pull of her powers and she jerked away her hands as if she'd been slapped. Her misery and disappointment crashed into him and he breathed in sharply. His empathy seemed to be much more in tune with Rogue than with any other person he'd ever met.

"Ah'm so sorry, Rem', Ah jus' – " He reached in and smoothed her bangs down, kissing her nose quickly.

"Y' did so good, _chere_ – I'm so proud of y'," he murmured, and her frustration gave way to relief so profound that he could have poked it with a stick.

"Ya really mean that?" she asked softly, and he nodded.

"I really do – y' did so good I fel' like we were gon' be here f' days!" She smiled, a little flush of peach coming to her milky cheeks, and the Professor cut in with all the practiced ease of one used to dealing with volatile people and sensitive situations. Teenagers, for lack of a better term.

"He's quite right, Rogue. This is the longest you have ever managed to maintain control – I must say I am very impressed," he said gently, almost paternal pride in his tone, and she looked down.

"It felt good..." she said hesitantly, and Remy grinned.

"It's s'posed t' feel good, _chere_, an' I know y' can do it again," he encouraged, his Rogue looking up to catch the Professor's eye. Remy didn't turn to observe his reaction, but Rogue smiled and took a deep breath, proclaiming,

"So do Ah."

_**~****************************************************************~**_

"That was amazing!" she howled, throwing her head back as he wove through traffic like a demon on speed, and he grinned privately. Behind them, the threads of smoke were rising to kiss the clouds, and the acrid smell of gas was a faint afterthought in the air. She hugged him and laughed with more enthusiasm than he thought he'd ever heard from her.

He didn't quite know whose idea it had been, or how it had formed and become finalised, but somehow that morning they'd found themselves on the way out of the door after Kitty left with Lance and Rogue and Remy went back to the Institute for her therapy, and the subject of therapy had come up. Without a clear idea of how it had come about that they began discussing active therapy, John was aware that they had somehow moved onto the catharsis of revenge and Wanda's desire to 'get out of the house'. It had taken very little time for them to be on their way into town to find Wanda's childhood home – the asylum that was her address for more years than he cared to think of.

She had set off the fire alarm after he got her onto the roof, disabled the security cameras and the rest of the precautionary measures taken to ensure the continued incarceration of the patients, and as the doctors had carted distressed patients out and attempted to phone the fire brigade – currently unavailable since Wanda's hex made certain that no phone within a mile radius could reach that number – John led his Witch into the bowels of the building to the specialy built restrictional facility they had made just for her.

The place had made his skin crawl. Dingy, grey walls that had probably once been white, narrow hallways leading downward to the basement and her 'old room'. The door bore a sign reading 'Warning! Extreme Safety Hazard. Restricted Area. Specially Authorised Personnel Only.' He incinerated it without a second thought, pushed the door open for her, took her hand and led her in. She had been trembling, partly enraged, partly terrified, and he had held her and promised her that this was only the beginning of the end. She had manipulated probability and set alight the straighjacket hanging on the wall – it had her old patient identification number branded onto the breast, the one she had recited for him while telling him everything he'd never wanted to know about her life in the prison her father had placed her in, and John had kissed her, wishing he could undo what they had done, powers exacerbating the blaze around them until certainly he was well on the way to undoing the building that had been her entire world once.

Beams fell, Wanda deflecting them, and they had walked out of the inferno as if they were just taking a morning stroll, his arm around her waist as she smiled at him, laughed, pointed to rooms that he sent little flaming dancers into while she told him just what they had once been used for. He had waltzed down smouldering hallways with her as the walls melted and she pirouetted like the little ballerina she had once been before she'd ever come to that place, and when she stopped spinning he'd caught her and said the magic words.

"Run..."

And they had, right out through the gates, showers of electricity sparking around them from ruined wires, and flames licking at their heels, heavy boots and John's euphoria keeping them from harm, and he had swept her up and carried her right back to where he'd parked and they'd taken off in a shower of collapsing brickwork and an anthem of horrified cries for help from the people in the street. John didn't think he'd ever felt so pleased before in his life, and as for his Wanda...

"I love you, I love you, I love you!" she chanted to him between giggles as they overtook a semi and sped up on their way to Bayville, and he laughed, delighted.

"Damn it Wanda, I love you too," he crowed, and her arms were around his neck as she kissed him on the cheek and sent little shocks through him without the aid of any mutant powers at all.

"John, take me home, I want to see this on the news, it's got to be on the news!" she shrieked, and he nodded and took the turn onto the street for the Brotherhood. They pulled up in a screech of gravel and she jumped off and raced inside, him catching up to her after a second and pulling her with him into the living room to the tune of her brother's cry of,

"What the hell are you two doing?!"

Wanda turned shining eyes to him and clapped her hands, turning on the TV with a wave of her hand and laughing,

"Shut up and listen!"

Behind her, the screen filled with images of the burning ruins of the asylum, a pretty blonde reporter in front of the wreckage and looking like she was in the way of the firemen saying,

" – this tragic accident which has been speculated as being caused by a flaw in the security measures taken shortly after the Asylum's most high-risk patient managed to escape last year. The new system was only a week old, and discrepancies in the timing and layout had already been noted by the institution's head of security. Kelly Brown reporting, live downtown – " Pietro's face had become as white as a sheet, and he looked at his sister with abject horror in his eyes.

"Wanda... Please... Tell me this wasn't you..." he pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper, and her smile grew faint.

"Are you telling me that I wasn't supposed to do that?" she asked, voice very carefully controlled, and her brother's cheeks regained a little colour.

"Of course you shouldn't have done that – did he put you up to this? That's arson, Wanda! That's a goddamn felony! You could be locked up for that!" Her eyes narrowed.

"One less place to lock me up in then," she spat, and John put a hand on her shoulder.

"He doesn' understand, darlin'... Don' let this ruin it for you," he said quietly, and Pietro glared at him.

"What right do you have to touch my sister? What right do you have to tell her what to do?" John looked at him calmly.

"The same right you do," he replied, and Pietro threw his arms up angrily, gesturing wildly as he yelled.

"She's fucking mutant royalty! She's the most evolved person on the goddamn planet! I'm her brother and I'm the only family she's got left and if anyone's gonna be taking care of her or telling her what to do, it's gonna be me, so why don't you just fuck off and leave us alone?!"

"I'm not so sure about that," John said, putting his arm around Wanda, who turned her face towards him so as not to have to see her twin.

"What do you mean you're not sure about it? It's fact! I know you don't exactly live in the real world you freak, but don't you think it's pretty obvious there are some things you can't ignore?" Pietro's voice was pure venom, and Wanda was shaking, clawed hands digging into John's shirt as he held her.

"I think maybe you need to remember what we talked about last time you started using words like that," John said quietly, and Pietro laughed.

"What, calling you a freak? You are a fucking freak! And you're turning my sister into one too! Look at what you've made her do! Do you want her to be sent back to some fucking padded cell? Is that really what you want for her? Just because you're batshit doesn't give you the right to drag my sister down to your level and I will not let you do to her what our father did!"

Wanda turned around abruptly, hexing her brother against the wall and holding him there, tears streaming down her face.

"YOU are exactly like your father!" she screamed, voice cracking, and her brother stared at her in shock, eyes wide and frightened.

"You let him lock me up, you let him plant lies in my head, you let him use you and walk all over you and you were always too much of a coward to do anything about it!" She was sobbing and her eyeliner was running in black trails down her cheeks as the wall behind her brother began to creak at the pressure her hex was applying to it.

"You let me believe I'd really gone insane, that noone was ever coming for me, and then when I believed that everything was fine, that we were a family, you let me just so that you wouldn't have to deal with me – just – like – _him!_"

She screamed the word, and her brother flinched.

"I'm nothing but a liability to you two – you are _scared_ of me, because I'm _'the most evolved person on this planet'_, but it's all bullshit! You know why your precious father locked me away when he couldn't control me? Because I was stronger than him – I will _always_ be stronger than both of you and that terrified him!" Pietro was crying too, now, silver tears barely visible against his pale skin, but she carried on.

"This world and everything in it belong to me," she grated,

"Everything in it is mine and there is nothing any of you can do because you stole things from me that I will never get back and _because of that_ I could destroy all of you in a second," the last word was a whisper, and she closed her eyes as the enormity of what she was telling him bit into her.

"You have no idea what it is like to be a bomb waiting to go off – the wrong word, the wrong smell, and you are all gone – just like that. _All of you!_ And the one person who knows what that feels like - who knows what _I_ feel like and who isn't holding me back or afraid of me, you treat like a bug you scraped off your shoe – like an _inferior!_"

Pietro's eyes flashed to John, who was looking at the scene impassively, and he tried to shake his head, but Wanda's hex intensified and he was forced to remain quiet.

"John took me to that – that _prison_ – because I _wanted_ to go – he helped me burn it down because I _needed_ it gone, and you can never understand that until you have suffered the way I have, so you never will! You are just like your father, just as afraid as he was, just as arrogant and assuming and pretentious as him, and the fact that you are still here does not earn you my forgiveness when you continue to behave in that way and disregard my free will! Everything I do is _my_ decision, _my_ choice – you think a life of drugged submission and forced obedience to the will of others is likely to make me a slave to anyone now that I have a choice?"

"I – just – wanna – keep – you – safe – " Pietro choked out, and she screamed in fury.

"It is my life and I will do as I please!"

"What's going on..? Wanda..?" Freddy appeared in the doorway, a bag on chips in one hand, and he looked at Wanda with wide eyes, clearly not understanding.

"It's okay, Freddy, just go back upstairs," she said, sniffing to clear the sob from her voice, but the large mutant boy stepped into the living room and looked at Pietro.

"What did he do?" he asked sadly, and Pietro took advantage of Wanda's lack of attention and yelled,

"She burned down the asylum and it's all over the news! Please, tell her – " Wanda snarled and the hex on her brother hummed with energy as she slammed him against the wall again to shut him up.

"You burned down that nasty place?" Freddy asked, and Wanda nodded.

"I did. I had to. Freddy, go upstairs please, I'm talking to Pietro," she tried, but suddenly the huge boy's arms were around her, lifting her up, and she yelled in surprise until she realised he was giving her a hug.

"Now they can't ever take you back!" Freddy said happily, swinging her from side to side a little, and then looking up to shake his head at Pietro.

"You know how everybody thinks you're so smart? Well you're even dumber 'n me you stupid jerk," he said, sounding disappointed, and put Wanda down. He wiped her tears away with his huge thumbs and said,

"If I had a little sister, I'd 'a wanted her to be just like you, Wanda... Don't let him get to you – sometimes brothers aren't so great," he said, the difficulty he had in phrasing it making her well up again, and she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him back.

"Did Pyro help you?" he asked, and John smiled at the large boy.

"That I did mate. She says jump, I get the skippin' rope. Only way it works." Wanda laughed through the tears on her cheeks, and Freddy grinned.

"Don't cry anymore, Wanda... we don't like it when you're sad," he said, and she sniffled, wiping the last droplets away.

"You know if you'd had a little sister, she'd have been the luckiest little girl in the world, Fred," she said shyly, and Freddy blushed a deep crimson usually associated with his violent outbursts.

"Thank you," he said politely, and she released her brother from the hex and watched him fall to the floor with a loud bump.

Toad looked in from the hallway, face serious, and he turned to Wanda for an explanation. John stepped up behind her and put a hand on her arm.

"Who says you can't choose your family," she said coldly, looking down on her twin and taking John's hand as she swept out of the room, closely followed by Freddy.

Behind them, Pietro's tears joined the ashes left on the carpet from her boots.

******************************************************************

_The artist formerly known as Anon Goddess is now the spiffingly-named Midnight Larkin and continues to be fabulous. Go check her out._

_AshmandaLC continues to be AshmandaLC – I bloody hope so, where are you sweets, let me know you're okay! – and is still fantastic. Go and see her._


	33. Apologise Before The Fact

_**DISCLAIMER: Bla, bla, blabla, bla, shickletree, bla, dumplingjuice, bla, I own nothing.**_

_**Welcome, one and all, to the gradual disintegration of romance and happiness that is Scarlet Letter. Yes, I know, 'Haven't you tortured them enough, Vally? Do they not deserve a happily ever after?', you say, but as always, I promise that this is a necessary evil and that any violence, unwelcome scenes of misunderstanding and intrigue, or general fan-girl offensive material, stay your hatred. It is the crux of life and love that to understand you must first be misinformed, and that to win, you must first be subjected to epic fail on ever level. So, to all those of you who reviewed last; my dear Irual, who returned with baked goods and love for the deserving – I hope so, she said I was ^^ - author; my ever-enthusiastic DevilishBea-Anime-Couple-Lover – whose name is a masterpiece of difficulty to write but whom I love for her use of the word 'Kya', and her always-welcome happiness; Chellerbell, to whom I promised an update; my darling Larkin, whom I adore a little more every time we speak and who understands my love of blonde men with too much hair and a penchant for leather and spikery; ColorCoated, to whom I am grateful for sharing my wish that siblings love despite their differences; A Forgotten Fairy, whom I shall never forget on principle ^^; TitansRule, whose parents unfortunately think she may be mad – which is entirely my fault, and I am sorry XD; Courtney Summers, who may have the last name of The Evil One, but whom we like because she was so very kind and who hopefully knows I'm not poking fun at her name – I'm really not, I promise; turtleray, to whom I also promised updates; my Punkin' Pie Ashy, who's gotten me hooked on a certain Hatter and feeds my obsession with gorgeous men without shirts – honestly, why must hot people wear clothes at all? It seems foolish and unnecessary ^^; and LadyMageLuna who is a faithful, valued reviewer; I wish you happy reading and PLEASE don't come after me with sharp things. I promise I'll fix this. I promise. I'm an author of my word. Ask Mr. J, he knows...**_

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_**~ Scarlet Letter ~**_

_**~ Apologise Before The Fact ~**_

It wasn't something she had really thought about. She had just been lying in her room watching some crime show or other and it suddenly ocurred to her to make the call. She'd never really considered it after the initial idea had come to her and Wanda – after all, she'd 'seen' the truth, Remy had given it to her freely and as far as she knew it couldn't be doctored when she saw it like that, but at the same time her inherently female suspicions seemed to have overtaken her once again since he had shown her the truth, and now she suddenly just needed to know. She was on the phone before she had time to reconsider, and he picked up after three rings.

"Rogue? What can I do for you today?" The polite, calm voice never failed to make those around him feel more at ease, and Rogue was no exception. With a minute sigh of relaxation she sank into her pillows and transferred the phone to her other hand.

"Warren, hey, Ah'm really sorry to call you lahke this, but Ah have somethang Ah really wanna check and Ah think it maght be somethin' you'd know about," she said apologetically, and he chuckled.

"So you need a favour? I've told you again and again Rogue, if there's ever anything you need, I'm just a phonecall away, you know that," he said, mock-reproachfully, and she felt her cheeks warming a little.

"Ah know, Ah know, but this girl was brought up ta always apologise beforehand," she said mock-firmly, and his amused noise on the other end told her that he really didn't mind at all.

"What's this favour then?" She smiled privately and said,

"Well, it's lahke this..."

_

* * *

_

He'd been training with Kurt to keep his hand in and to interrogate the blue-furred demonic mutant about his Southern sister, only to be interrogated in turn regarding his past, and had spent a pleasant training session getting his arse handed to him until he figured out Kurt's strategy and was able to fight back somewhat. Now, walking down the corridor to Rogue's room, hair still damp from the shower and heart aching to be close to his _chere_, the spring in his step was that of a man in love. As he raised his hand to knock on her door – a courtesy she insisted upon – he heard her voice from within, and whether from an inbred desire to poke his nose into things that weren't strictly his business, or a strong desire to be one step ahead in the game for Rogue's continued affections, he froze, listening in on her conversation.

"... Ah am so glad ta hear you say that, ya just have no ahdea!" his _chere_ was saying, sounding happy and relieved, and Remy's jealousy spiked. It only got worse when she giggled and said,

"Well, you are such a sweetheart, thank you so much! When are ya comin' ta see me again?" Gritting his teeth, Remy did his best to quell the anger at the sound of his Rogue clearly flirting with someone. She sure as hell didn't talk to her friends like that, as many nights of hanging from trees outside her room and listening in on her tapped phonecalls had proven.

"Well Ah'd sure love ta see you soon too, honey... Tonaght? Well... Ah'm cookin' – an' Ah promise you, he won' be there... Then Ah'll see ya tonaght! Thanks again!" He waited three minutes to be sure that she had hung up, straightened his back, set his shoulders, faked a smile, and knocked.

"Come in!" He opened the door and peered inside. She was lying on her bed, muted television showing something exploding in true prime-time series style, phone next to her on the pillows. She smiled at him. He hardened his heart to it's magical effects.

"Remy! You an' Kurt didn' hurt each other too bad, now, raght?" she asked, and he shrugged, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.

"_Non_. Y' _frere_ be a sneaky bastard, bu' we had fun..." He failed to keep the disappointment out of his voice entirely. She sat up properly and looked at him more seriously.

"Ya sure? You sound kinda down, honey – ya didn' meet Scott on the way up, did ya? Ah keep tellin' ya, jus' ignore him, he's a dick..." she rolled her eyes at the last part and smiled encouragingly, and Remy felt like throwing himself at her feet and bawling like a three-year old. It wasn't fair...

"_Non_. Haven' seen him all day, him an' Jean, dey wen' out somewhere..." Again, he couldn't quite keep his tone clear of the overwhelming pain in his chest. She'd been flirting with someone... Someone who wasn't him... _His_ Rogue, who never flirted with _anyone_... She looked at him oddly, and stood up. He didn't move.

"Remy... Are you alraght? Ya seem... Ah don' know..." She bit her lip and made a gesture with her hand that indicated that she wanted him to reassure her, but he just couldn't.

"Yeah, sure. Remy be fine. Jus' come t' see what m – what y' were doin'. Remy be seein' y'," he said quietly, and she looked at him with wide eyes.

"Why are you talkin' lahke that? What's wrong?" she demanded, voice shrilling a little, and he shrugged, turning to the door.

"Notin'. Jus' tired. 'm goin' t' – " she grabbed his arm and pulled him around to face her.

"You ain' goin' nowhere 'til you tell me why the hell you're actin' lahke someone jus' died! Ah wanna know what's wrong an' you can' jus' tell me you're tahred because you're not and Ah wan' the truth, Remy! Ya promised ya wouldn' lie to meh anymore!" she yelled, tears clustering together in the corners of her eyes, and his heart made a painful little jump in his chest.

"I ain' the one lyin', Rogue, I jus' – I don' wan' t' talk abou' it righ' now, okay? Let me go," he tried, louder than he had been aiming for, and she let go of him as if he'd slapped her.

"What – what do you mean, _you_ ain' the one lyin'," she stammered, tears spilling over and pooling below her eyes, falling to the floor.

"I **don'** wanna talk about it righ' now," he repeated, stepping back, hating the harshness of his voice, hating her expression as she stood there, looking at him with a total lack of understanding in those big, green eyes.

"Ya think Ah'm lyin' about somethin'?" she asked softly, disbelief sneaking onto her face, and he looked away from her.

"It don' matter what I tink," he said coldly, hands clenched to stop them from betraying him and wiping away her tears.

"It does if ya think Ah'm lyin' about somethin'! What would Ah lie about? Can' ya jus' tell me what's goin' on?" she pleaded, and he sighed and fixed his gaze to the floor, mumbling,

"I don' tink I can stay here, Rogue..." He didn't have to look at her to see her reaction. He felt it. The force of the blow rocked his head to the side and the burning on his cheek told him just what she thought of his decision to leave. The sound of it hung between them, ominous – and followed by a choked, swallowed sob from Rogue.

"Get outta mah room," she said quietly, voice scratchy, and he looked up at her, eyes softening at the sight of the love of his life with her arms around her middle, her bangs obscuring her face from his view.

"_Chere_..." he said sadly, halfway to reaching out to her, and she took a step back, raising her eyes to meet his and screaming,

"Get _OUT!_" Once again, he turned to the door, opened it, but this time, he left.

_

* * *

_

Remy was gone. Rogue had been crying in her room for six straight hours. Wanda was climbing the walls, alternately threatening to crucify the Cajun upon his capture and destroying things around the house because despite her concern for Rogue, the Southern Belle wouldn't let her or anyone else in, let alone tell them what it was all about. Other than the obvious fact 'he left', no one knew anything. John, initially torn between wanting to be there for Wanda and needing to find his friend, had been ordered to find Remy under pain of death and bring him back to face the Scarlet Witch's jury of one – execution not up for appeal, judgement _passed in absentia – and_ was therefore not around to help calm her down. And so the kitchen was reduced to the first stages of Ragnarok.

Wolverine was holed up in the Professor's office after his reaction to the new developments had demolished a bearing wall and brand new 44'' plasma flatscreen in the downstairs lounge, and was undergoing what amounted to a serious talking to, but which was being referred to as 'having _words'_ by the adults to avoid the teenagers thinking it was a laughing matter.

Kitty was at the Brotherhood house, Lance charged with 'sitting on her until she stops encouraging Wanda' by Jean, who was to be seen in deep conversation with her fiancée back at the mansion, and could be heard murmuring things like 'I knew this would happen,' and 'I wonder what he did to her'.

Kurt was with Storm, helping her make dinner while she talked him out of his kamikaze mission to port into his sister's room and try and comfort her.

Pietro was cowering in his room, praying devoutly that this apparent epic failure in Rogue's relationship with a criminal would make his sister see sense and get out of her own while she could.

Toad had relocated to the sewers to stay with the Morlocks temporarily, something he had taken to doing after Apocalypse in times of stress, feeling more at home with others who looked and smelled unnatural.

Fred was trying to keep Wanda calm and failing miserably as the witch's concern for her friend and desire for retribution upon those who had done her wrong grew hour by hour.

The New Recruits were keeping well out of the way of everything, and only Bobby asked the question everyone was secretly thinking.

_

* * *

_

"What the _hell_ wen' wrong?!"

The Cajun slumped over the bar didn't answer the enraged Aussie's question, reaching instead for his bourbon, and John lost his temper completely.

"You stupid bloody – " Hauling his best friend up by the collar of his trench coat, he reached back and landed one square on the corner of Remy's already abused right jaw. The drunken Cajun went down in a pitiful heap on the filthy floor. Without attempting to retaliate or in any way acknowledge that he'd just been floored by someone who usually floored other people by his side in places just like this, Remy picked himself up unsteadily and leant on the bar, reaching again for his glass. If he had been looking at his friend he might have seen the next one coming. Reflexes faster than the intoxicated Southerner's, John swept the half-full glass onto the floor where it smashed, shards marinading in the expensive pool of liquid, and struck Remy on the opposite cheek. Going down this time, Remy's chin caught the bar, teeth cracking together, and when he got up for the second time in as many minutes, despite being yet more unsteady, he was looking at the Australian. He spat a mouthful of blood before answering him.

"Go home, Johnny-boy..." he mumbled, tongue probing a back tooth to check it's anchorage,

"I ain' goin' back again..." The bright blue eyes watching him narrowed at the slurred words, and the pyromaniac flexed his fingers.

"The fuck you're not," he hissed, not even really waiting for Remy to turn his face away from him before grabbing him by the hair and slamming aforementioned visage into the counter. Something cracked.

"Whatever you've done, whatever she said, you're goin' back an' you're makin' this right, mate, if I have ta have them commune with your bloody _spririt_ ta get it done, you'll bloody well do it 'cause you ain' runnin' away again," John said, leaning on the Southerner to prevent him from escaping, one elbow purposely digging into his friend's kidneys and the other secured on the edge of the bar as he spoke directly into Remy's ear.

"She doesn' love me," Remy howled, sounding more self-pitying than actually physically pained although by rights he should be.

"Heard 'er talkin' t' some ot'er guy on de phone – she doesn' love me!" John lifted his friend's face from the bar enough for him to be able to backhand him, and for Remy's nose to split on one side, the blood trickling down his face from the hairline cut adding to what was already spilling down his chin.

"Then ya bloody well get your arse back there an' _fight_ for 'er ya fuckin' coward! Are ya so bloody scared ta burn yourself that ya can' even do that?!" John roared, and Remy screwed his eyes shut hard and shouted,

"YES!" voice cracking as the Aussie let go of him, letting him slide to the floor as the tears finally broke through and he found himself on his knees on the floor of the bar, crying his eyes out.

"'m gon' lose her – I never had her t' begin wit', she wasn' _mine_," he sobbed, hating himself beyond all reason for being so completely pathetic. It wasn't that he was crying for her, it was that he was a coward, crying for her on his way to leaving her for ever because he was too chickenshit to stay and fight for what he wanted.

"What am I gonna do, Johnny?" he asked, looking up at his friend and finding he didn't have so far up to look after all, John having squatted down to his level, expression pained, but eyes as hard as ever.

"You're comin' home with me," he said quietly, taking Remy's arm and helping him up carefully,

"An' then you're gonna talk to the Sheila."

_

* * *

_

It was a miracle that Wanda didn't smite him like the angry goddess she was the second John half-dragged, half-carried him in through the front door, but through some chancing fate, the look on her lover's face stopped her as she raised her arm to do the deed. At the sight of Remy's own face, her only reaction was to raise her eyes to John's once more in question. He nodded once, and her lips quirked as her eyes softened and she came towards him and drew him into her arms. She took care to avoid the Cajun he was supporting.

"Thank you..." she said, voice trembling with unspoken emotions, and he put his free hand on her cheek and gave her a dark look.

"I did it for him," he said softly, almost apologetic, as a devoted disciple who sacrifices to his goddess and then admits that it was an act of merciful euthanasia rather than a direct sacrificial deed. She just kissed him briefly and whispered,

"I know. Thank you." The look he gave her as she pulled back and took the drunken, beaten Remy from him with an ungentle shot of blue sparklies was every bit as trusting and faithful as that of one who has found their chosen religion and heard the voice of their saviour, and she returned it in equal measure.

"We can't send him to her like this, love," he said, and she bit her lip.

"I don't know if I can do anything about this... I don't know how," she murmured, powers probing the Cajun as they sought to assess the damage done to him and by him to himself.

"I don't think I can heal this. Physically, I know how – "

"Leave the knocks, darlin'. He'll be glad of the reminder when he comes to," John interjected, voice gentle despite his interruption, but the words hard and true. Her smile was glowing but her embarassment was told by the flush of her cheekbones.

"Okay... Um... I can't heal drunkenness... I don' know how... Should we let him sleep it off?" John shrugged.

"I couldn' keep him awake. He passed out halfway here. An' I wanna talk to 'im again without the booze interferin' before he goes ta see her. I think he needs it," he said, taking in his unconcious friend with a soldiers eye, and then looking back to Wanda.

"I'll put him in my room," he said finally. She screwed up her face as if disapproving of the idea of letting Remy sleep in John's room at all, and then her eyes clouded in confusion.

"But where will you..?" He looked at her calmly.

"With you, love. Unless ya don' feel up to it, then I'll bunk with this coward." She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, then tucked her bangs behind her ears.

"I didn't think of that... You can if you want to, I guess..." John took a step closer to her, putting two fingers under her chin and looking her in the eyes.

"What are you afraid of, Wanda?" he asked quietly, and she blinked, blue-grey turning liquid and wide as they met bottomless blue

"What if I can't... I mean... I don't know..." she struggled to find the words, and he sighed, stepping forward and closing his arms around her, kissing her forehead gently.

"Darlin'... You know ya don' have ta do anythin', right?" She didn't reply, and he tipped her face up, forcing her to meet his gaze again. Her eyes were unsure, brow furrowed.

"You know I couldn' ever hurt you or do anythin' ya didn' wan' me ta do, right?" he asked again, and she nodded, blinking quickly.

"Wanda... I love you. I love you so much I don' even care much that my best friend's lyin' over there black an' blue righ' now 'cause of me because you're cryin'..." She smiled a tiny smile; it flitted over her fears so quickly he barely caught it, but since his every attention was on her, he just about managed.

"You're so beautiful when ya smile, ya know that? An' when ya cry, but I like the smiling better. It means I haven't cocked up yet," he said, purposely turning it into a joke on him, and she blinked again and said,

"You haven't done anything... And I know – I know you'd never – never _hurt_ me," she said carefully,

"But I... I was hoping you'd stay with me anyway, and you – you beat him up, and if he's going to be in your room – maybe you should stay with him in case he wakes up? I don't – I don't want to be a _Jean_," she said with a little more bite to her voice, and he raised an eyebrow.

"What's that then?"

"One of those girls who won't let their men do anything that doesn't involve them or don't like them doing things with the guys or taking care of things without them controlling everything... I don't want to be all overbearing and mean and - you know that ball and chain expression? I don't want to be that... I want you to do what you do and be with me when you want to... I don't want to keep you from things..." she looked embarassed and a little sad as she spoke, and he grinned at her, hugging her tightly.

"Darlin', if I could chain myself to you without drivin' you spare, I probably would, but you're no Jean, alright? You're my Wanda... I don't feel like you're keeping me from anything, an' if I did, I'd let you know, okay? Relax. I don' want ta spend the night with him anyway – he snores," he said honestly, and she laughed, relieved and happy.

"Are you sure? You know I don't want to be a burden – " he cut her off by kissing her, almost as deeply as he had the night they'd discovered their feelings. Wanda had told the girls the truth – that was all they'd done and all she was going to do until she felt safe and normal and settled into her skin again. Not because she didn't want to, but because they'd both agreed that finding out everything about the other was more important than getting to the physical benefits of a comitted relationship, not least because it meant that when they did it would mean something to them both. He'd had enough of meaningless faceless release and she'd had enough of shallow, unreal relationships and untruths to last her a they had might be real, but they both wanted it to stay that way, and as it was both of them were having enough troube coming to terms with the emotional side of it already. Adding anything else on top of that would just be stupid.

"You... are the only thing I've ever _chosen_," he said when he released her again, eyes closed as if he was afraid to look at her.

"The only thing I've ever wanted like this, and I've _got_ you... I'm not gonna lose you or ruin this by pushing you into things... I love you, Wanda... I don' ever wan' you to say the 'B' word again, it's not true now an' it never will be." He sounded like he was trying to tell her something he could barely even contain, let alone express, and by the look in his eyes as he opened them to capture hers, she thought that might well be the case.

"I love you too, John... And I'm tired... Carry him upstairs? I'll be in my room..." She let go of him with a smile that was half-coquette, half angel, and left the room, and he hoisted Remy onto his shoulder again and began the trek to his room.

_

* * *

_

When Remy LeBeau woke up, he felt exactly like he had been beaten to a bloody pulp after a long night of reparative drinking. Which, he recalled, was fairly close to the truth. Probing his molars to check one that felt rather uncomfortably loose, and raising an aching arm to his right eye which was swollen shut and felt like it had glass embedded somewhere above it, he attempted to takestock of his situation beyond the debilitating pain. And he realised that there was a deeper, darker pain in his chest. For a moment he thought he was dying, but then he abruptly remembered that _that_ particular pain would be from the loss of the woman of his dreams, and then he wished that he was dying after all. With an unbecoming whimper, he rolled onto his side and propped himself up on his elbows and looked around with the eye that still functioned.

He was clearly in John's bedroom at the Brotherhood, and someone had removed his trench coat and boots. Disoriented, he tried to sit up, but his kidneys protested and he slumped into the well-known face-down position the hungover favour so. His whining must have been louder than he thought, for he was suddenly aware that John was sitting next to him, pulling him up carefully and helping him sip what became evident as being very black coffee. For a moment Remy was surprised that the guy who'd laid into him the night before as though he wanted him dead was being so kind and careful with his battered self, but then he recalled that John had been doing it for his own good and that he loved him really.

"Sorry 'bout the eye, mate," John said quietly, and Remy looked at him blearily.

"_Tu es pardonné, mon ami... un mal nécessaire..._" he mumbled, and John nodded, distracted.

"Rem'... I need ya t' listen to me, okay?" Remy's voice became stronger as his hatred of the words he knew John was about to speak won out over the hangover and the misery, and the tone became venomous.

"Or what? Y'll kill me? I don' wan' t' listen. I won'." The petulance of his refusal to cooperate was rammed home when John gave him a stern look and said,

"I'm not gonna dignify that with a response. Ya'll listen because ya have to." Remy looked away from his friend pointedly.

"Don' be five," John said sharply, and Remy gave him a glare that let him know just how much he hated being told not to be childish. It was, after all, his defense mechanism.

"I hate y'," he said angrily, and John shrugged.

"I know y' do. Like I hate you when you're holdin' my head under water ta make me take my pills. Now shut the fuck up an' listen." Remy made a grudging noise of assent, signifying that he would indeed listen.

"You love Rogue. Ya wouldn' walk out on 'er for nothin'. What the hell happened?" John stated the first two facts plainly, asking the question without the hint of a judgement being passed upon anyone involved, and Remy sighed, looking up at the ceiling. The lack of scorchmarks was impressive.

"Heard 'er talkin' t' anot'er _homme_ on de phone... Flirtin'... Askin' him t' come roun'... She said she'd get rid o' Remy so he could come..." The words were spoken with a sort of irreversible unfairness, a tired knowledge that it was already ruined and that it could never be rebuilt... That all mention of it was merely salt in the wound of his heart. John didn't answer immediately.

"Did she say you were the one she was gonna get rid of?" he asked thoughtfully, and Remy looked at him with a sort of accusing disbelief, as though John were displaying an unknown stupidity level quite unlike him.

"She said she'd be cookin' when he came roun', an' dat she promised _'he'_ wouldn' be dere... Isn' dat obvious enough?" John gave him an odd look.

"Angel was s'posed ta go ta dinner at the Institute las' night 'cause Rogue invited him. The littlest Sheila nearly had a seizure when you an' Rogue had your words an' you ran out. She's been barricaded in 'er room ever since an' Kitty had ta call the bloke an' tell him he couldn' come. 'Parently he was on the way here when she made the call. Kitty wan's your 'ead on a platter." The look on Remy's battered face would have been quite comical really, if it hadn't been for the fact that he looked utterly miserable.

"Angel? De rich bastard wit' de wings?" he asked, as though he really wasn't sure he'd understood who it was.

"The very same. Rogue set 'im up with some British Sheila las' year an' as far as I hear he's still in with the X-crowd – they're all invited to 'is wedding nex' year." If the previous facial gymnastics had been fun, these were nothing short of hilarious. It was a credit to John that he remained calm and outwardly unamused.

"So... I jus' proved dat I don' trust de woman I love t' be honest wit' me..." Remy said slowly, the full horror of what he had done sinking in like corrosive acid on a baby's bottom. Painfully and with a strange gargling noise.

"Johnny... If I asked y'... Would y' jus' put me out o' my misery? Fo' ol' time's sake?" he asked tearfully, and John's fingers twitched.

"Don' make me smack you one for bein' an arse," he warned, and Remy made a despairing sound and closed his eye again.

"Could y' leave den? I wanna cry in peace," he managed, mouth almost too closed to let the words escape, and John sighed.

"I'm not goin' anywhere. I'm takin' you ta see her."

_

* * *

_

We all know the phrase 'kicking and screaming', but few of us truly know what it is to be transported in some fashion against one's will, while being the subject of an enactment of said phrase – or to be doing the transporting. John knew both sides of this unpleasant matter quite well, but never had he thought to see the day when he'd be bodily dragging an injured Remy across the mansion's grounds, Wanda following at a sedate pace. It happened to be such that the transportation of Remy in this manner called for violence in the form of kicking bits that refused to comply with the overall mission's chances of success, and the only way they'd even gotten him this far was by knocking him out courtesy of Wanda, hogtieing him and placing him in the jeep, driving to the gates, and after being refused entry while carrying 'that thing' – 'that thing' being Remy – opening the gates courtesy again of the lovely Wanda, and entering without permission. The reason Wanda was not aiding the dragging of the now-conscious Cajun was that she had claimed dizziness after such use of her powers lately when she was really meant to be resting, and John, being mindful of her health had agreed that they'd simply have to use cruder means to get Remy where they needed him gotten. Wanda was, however, up to opening the door for John as he threw Remy into the hall unceremoniously, and followed him, grabbing him by the coat before he could escape back out the way they'd come. Wolverine intercepted their ascent of the stairs.

"Jesus, bub, what'd you do to 'im?" he asked, sniffing the Cajun apprehensively, and John waved a hand expansively.

"Persuaded 'im ta stop bein' an arse." Wanda put a cold, trembling hand on Logan's arm and said,

"He needs to make amends for what he did," in a small, unsteady voice, and the Canadian turned to face her, looked her over.

"I don't - you feelin' okay, sweetheart?" he asked, surprised, the unwelcome breaker of Rogue's heart momentarily ignored as he made certain that Wanda was not about to make the world pay anew for wrongs done to her.

"Please let him apologise, Logan. What hurt Rogue most last time was that he did not apologise properly... She needs closure..." Whether it was the pleading of this white-faced, shaking girl or the memory of his Stripes' misery and despondence following her time away with Remy, or even the knowledge that if he refused, even in her weakened state, Wanda could likely still force her will through and make things happen according to her views of what ought be done – Logan assented. Jerking his head at John and saying,

"He better not make things worse, kid," he took Wanda's arm and led her away, gruff voice low and kind as he asked,

"Are you sure you're okay, Wanda?" John, now alone with his honest-to-the-Gods burden, pulled Remy over one shoulder after cuffing him hard on the head, and began to ascend the stairs, his mind half on whether or not Wanda's deteriorated health was genuine or not, and whether Rogue would even listen. Unlike Remy, she had every reason to refuse.


	34. What Do You Think?

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own any characters, places, or anything else like that. I just own the shapes into which I've moulded them all. The story is all I can lay claim to, everything else is only available because this is fan fiction and I'm not getting paid.**

_**Hello, everyone, guess who? **_

_**ALLREMS, TitansRule, LadyMageLuna, A Forgotten Fairy. . AKA- Fairy, Chellerbelle, ColorCoated, cougarrose47, Ashy, Theevilhillbilly, Crazyjess09, going-rogue2374, Indigo-Night-Wisp and SparklesInTheSun, thank you all for reviewing and for all the positive attention, it means so much to me. Larky, thanks for being continually awesome.**_

_**Thank you, all of you.**_

* * *

_**~ Scarlet Letter ~**_

_**What Do You Think**__**?**_

Rogue couldn't have been more surprised if she'd opened her door to a procession of dead Hollywood starlets come to devour her brains. The sight of what was actually standing in her doorway was certainly just as odd.

_BUMP!_

"Jesus Chris', I ain'doin' that again' fer a while!" Pyro exclaimed, dumping Remy at Rogue's feet much like a cat does with a recently murdered mouse, except Remy was still alive, and John didn't look like he was awaiting praise. She stared at him for a few seconds.

"What – Ah – _what?_" seemed the most appropriate response to the situation, so she went with it.

"Well, it's like this – he was drinkin' himself ta the nex' life tryin' ta get over thinkin' that you were carryin' on behind his back with some other tosser, an' I had ta go an drag him out of it, so ta speak," John said cheerily, eyeing the prostrate Cajun as though to ensure he stayed put. He didn't move, but he did groan.

"But – What's he doin' _here?_" John flashed her an apologetic smile.

"Well now that's a diff'ren' pot o' tea! Y' see, my Wanda was all fer killin' 'im an' buryin' him somewhere in the garden, but we agreed that he had ta come here an' set things straight with you after I found out he had it all wrong." She crossed her arms.

"Mmm-hmm. An' jus' what did he have all wrong?" John's grin was even wider this time.

"He overheard you an' Angel on the phone an' thought you were makin' a date, as it were." Rogue's incredulous snorting wasn't very ladylike, but it did convey her feeling accurately.

"With _Angel?_ Oh come _on!_ Ah don' think there's ever been a dumber match anywhere in history!" She nudged Remy with the scuffed toe of her boot and looked at him with ill-concealed, yet slightly amused anger.

"Ya didn' _seriously_ think Ah'd ever go for Angel, did ya? Damn fool Cajun. Las' tahme Ah checked, _you_ were the one with the shitty track record, _not_ me!" John nodded sagely, and Remy raised himself to his knees and looked up at Rogue blearily.

"I was a fool, Rogue... I know y'd never do a ting like dat – I love y Rogue, I should 'a trusted y'... Forgive me?" He half-whined his plea, and her stance softened noticeably.

"Well Ah jus' don' know about that now," she said haughtily.

"Maybe Ah've been too nahce about all this _us_-business – maybe you need ta start workin' for it!" In his eagerness to have everyone be quiet and Rogue love him again, Remy did a foolish thing.

"Anytin', _chere_, anytin' y' wan' – I've been an ass an' y' deserve better. Let me make dis up t' y'!" John observed the shameless toadying with mild interest, thoughts elsewhere with his pale-faced witch. Rogue smiled at Remy, Southern drawl suger-sweet.

"Ah have jus' the thang for that..." John looked away from Remy's sigh of relief that Rogue was apparently not immune to his somewhat battered, hungover charms, and Rogue said softly,

"You can go find her now, Johnny. Ah'll take this from here." John gave her a grateful smile and left at a brisk walk, intent on making absolutely certain that Wanda was perfectly alright. Behind him, Remy, with much help from the doorframe, stood up precariously and looked at his Southern Belle with complete slavish adoration. The quirk of her purple-painted lips should have alerted him to the dangers of feeling safe yet, but alas he was still far too grateful for her apparent forgiveness to pay such things much mind.

"Y' know I love y', Rogue... Hell, I don' deserve y' at all," he mumbled through split lips and wobbly molars, and she smiled, shifting to one side a little and looking him up and down.

"Ah know... This new look of yours really works f' me," she said with a wink, and he grinned, wincing only very little so happy was he.

"Maybe Ah should start beatin' you up, huh Swamp Rat?" She was leaning into him, giving him free license to look _down_ at her, and all reason deserted him. At this point she could have said anything and he wouldn't have noticed the particulars.

"Sure, anytin' y' wan', _ma chere_..." She tilted her head up, so that he had only to lean down half an inch to kiss her if he so chose. Her lips curved into a truly evil smile.

"Anythang Ah wan', huh? That so? Well then what Ah'd really lahke is f' you t' get gone an' not come back until you've planned me a proper date," she cooed, placing her hand on his chest and pushing him back slightly, letting him stumble a little while she half-closed her door.

"Oh, an' Remy? Have it ready by tonaght, okay? Ah'm in the mood ta get all purtied up," she laughed, blowing him a kiss before slamming her door in his face. The bemused Cajun was left staring at the door wondering just how it had gone from his forgiveness-kiss to –

"Aw, _shit_..."

* * *

Storm was in the kitchen with Wanda, where Logan had brought her after the girl insisted she was alright and just needed some water. She was on her second slice of triple-chocolate fudge cake when John came in. Or rather, he didn't so much come in as he stood in the doorway, looking at Wanda and Storm who were giggling over something Storm had said, with an incredibly relieved look on his face. Ororo smiled kindly at the girl and leaned in, whispering loudly,

"I think someone's here to see you, child," and Wanda turned around in her seat, flashing John a brilliant smile, although her face was still a little too pinched for his liking. He grinned back.

"Heard ol' Wolvie turned you over to the hand that feeds, luv," he said teasingly, and Storm smiled indulgently at him.

"It's no surprise the girl's still so tired when she's just been telling me how hard it is to get a decent meal at that house of yours," she scolded, smile belying the jest.

"Well, between Freddie an' the rest of us, I'll be the firs' to admit we eat like an army an' complain twice as much," John laughed, sitting next to Wanda who curled a hand around his and chuckled.

"They really do take care of me, Storm. I've just been worried about Rogue, that's all," she assured the weather witch, but Ororo just shook her head and said,

"Well whatever the reason dear, you're always welcome to join us for dinner, lunch or breakfast. No one here will ever turn you away and that's a promise." Wanda's eyes grew large and liquid and she was about to say something to the older woman when Remy appeared, looking stressed and definitely the worse for wear.

"Ladies, can I borrow Johnny f' a minute? _Merci_," he muttered, dragging John by the arm into the corridor and ignoring the pyrokinetic's protestations completely.

"What the hell, mate? I thought you an' 'er were square! What's the problem now? You never mucked it up again!" he sighed in exasperation and Remy shook his head and said in a low, conspiratorial tone,

"_Non, mon ami_, y' gotta help Remy – I have t' get a date set up f' Rogue **t'nigh' **an' I don' know de firs' ting!" John looked at him seriously.

"You agreed ta take her on a fancy date somewhere with less than twelve hours' notice? Jesus, how thick _are_ ya?" Remy shushed him frantically.

"Keep it down! Noone can know about dis – I have t' come up wit' sometin' good by t'night or I'm in big trouble – I promised!" Leaning against the wall, John closed his eyes as he thought hard on the situation at hand.

"Hang on... y' had sometin' planned f' t'night, didn' y'?" Remy asked slowly, voice turning sly at the end of his question, and John's eyes snapped open as he glared at his friend.

"No way! Hell no! Never in a billion years, ya spongin' tosser! I've had tha' in the works fer _ages!_ There's no way I'm givin' it away now!" Remy wrung his hands and begged pitifully.

"_Sil vous plait, mon ami_, I can' tink o' anytin' else, and y' Wanda don' know about de surprise – please, please, help Remy out an' I swear I'll owe y' f' life!" John poked him in the chest, hard.

"I worked on this for a _week_, it's gonna be _perfect_, an' you wan' me ta let you have it an' pretend ta your Sheila that you came up with it at the las' minute ta save your own skin?" Remy nodded, eyes pleading with John, and the pyromaniac sighed heavily.

"This is an executive decision mate. They don' go through me. I'll have to appeal to a higher power. 'Scuse me." Remy closed his eyes in silent prayer and crossed his fingers as John pushed past him and returned to the kitchen where Wanda and Storm looked up at him, both slightly amused at the turn of events. He knelt next to Wanda's chair and looked at her sadly.

"Darlin', I have somethin' ta tell you... It's abou' Rem' an' your Rogue. Now, I don' wan' ya t' get upset, we can work 'round this, jus' hear me out, okay?" Wanda nodded, a hesitant look on her face at her usually chipper Aussie's doleful expression.

"Okay. I'm listening," she said dubiously, and he took a deep breath.

"I had somethin' special planned for us tonight – spen' ages on it, really pulled out all the stops – an' I was goin' t' surprise you with it, but Remy promised Rogue jus' now that he'd take her out tonight an' he asked if he could sponge off my idea, an'... I couldn' give it away without askin' first..." Wanda gave him a curious look, eyes sparkling. Across from them, Storm was hiding a laugh.

"You had a surprise date planned for me that you want to give Remy so that he can keep a promise to Rogue?" Wanda asked slowly. John nodded apprehensively.

"Oh, John..." Wanda laughed out loud and threw her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek as he looked over her shoulder at Ororo, perplexed and not understanding her reaction at all. Storm was laughing just as hard as Wanda.

"Oh, John you're just the sweetest person in the whole world!" Wanda exclaimed suddenly, pulling away to smile at him, shaking her head and clasping his hands together.

"You didn't have to ask me about that! You should just have done it!" John smiled, relieved, and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead as he stood to go and tell Remy that they were on track for Operation Make Up.

"Had to ask, luv, it was your date," he reasoned, and Wanda giggled.

"Go and tell him then! We'll go out another night – besides, you already gave me that first real date you owed me the other day..." Her tone became suggestive of secrets between them and he chuckled.

"Well, I wanted ta spend an evening with my Sheila that was just about us and didn't include property damage, darlin'. I don' wanna be a bad influence." She flushed a little and mumbled,

"Oh alright then... Go and tell Remy to get ready and make sure he tells Rogue what to wear for the occasion so she doesn't get angry again. That stuff matters." John managed a wink and a,

"Yes, luv," before ducking out the door again, and Wanda turned back to her tea with a lovelorn sigh that did not escape Storm.

"If you ask me, dear, he's done you nothing but good. I've never seen you so happy," the older woman said warmly, and Wanda smiled to herself and then gave Storm a glowing look.

"I've never really _been_ this happy..."

* * *

He hadn't told her where they were going or for what, but he had mentioned that she shouldn't wear heels. There were endless possibilities for guesswork in that little tidbit. And Kitty was listing them all as she helped Rogue sort through the mountainous pile of clothing on the bed.

"... and like, Lance says he might have given them some tips, but Remy _totally_ would have let you wear heels for a fancy dinner or something, and I guess boots are like, better if you're gonna be like, _outside_ or something, so I just don't _know_ anymore, I mean – "

"Kit, can we jus' concentrate on what Ah'll be wearin' _besides_ the damn boots? Ah can' show up in them an' _only_ them. Ah kinda think Logan maght have somethin' ta say about that," Rogue said crossly, and Kitty smothered a giggle at the thought of a stark naked Rogue leaving for a date with only her boots on. Remy would have an aneurism.

"Totally, I am _so_ on it. I'm sorry Rogue, I'm just really excited! I mean, it's your first _real date_ and it's bound to be something really special even if you _didn't_ give him much time to plan..." Kitty trailed off, considering where you could get reservations/tickets/_anything_ six hours before the fact while Rogue threw another top onto the floor.

"Ah'm not so sure he hasn't had somethin' planned before now, but with ev'rythang the way it's been... Ah guess it's just been a little fast, you know?" Rogue sighed, and Kitty put a hand on her arm reassuringly.

"If it's the right thing then there's no fast or slow," she said wisely.

"You just go it at your own pace and tell him where the line's drawn. Trust me on this one – Lance had _real_ issues with timing when we first started dating." Rogue gave her a wry look.

"Ah'm sure Ah'd love ta hear what Mistah Romance himself wan'ed ta speed up back then sugah," she teased, and Kitty put her hands on her hips.

"This is not about me! We're totally trying to make _you_ look hot, this is about _you!_" she squealed, and Rogue laughed and held up a ruched-front, mesh-sleeved black top with the miles-of-cleavage dipped v-neck and silver hook-eye closures.

"This hot enough for a date with a Cajun, Kit?" Kitty's eyes widened, and she made a high-pitched noise of approval.

"Like, where do you get this stuff? You're going to look totally too good for him!" she exclaimed, and Rogue shrugged.

"I do shop, y' know. Skirt or pants with this?" Kitty took a step back, snatched the top, held it up in front of Rogue and squinted like the makeover professionals on TV.

"Pants. But make them tight, you can pull that off with this and still be dressy," she assessed, and Rogue looked down at herself.

"Is that gonna be okay with boots? Ah mean, won' that jus' make meh look lahke Ah fel' a little boob-happy this mornin' when Ah was pickin' out mah clothes?" she asked with some hesitation, and Kitty sighed, picked up Rogue's tight leather pants from the bed, shoved them and the top into the Goth's arms, pointed towards the bathroom and said,

"Go and change." Rogue took them, eyeing the Valley Girl dubiously, but she went anyway. Kitty sank down onto the bed and pulled out her phone, fingers delivering the message that all was underway as swiftly as they could. It took under two minutes for the response to arrive in her inbox.

'_Brilliant. I'll let Wanda know post-snooze. Don't let the Sheila change, it's apples as is.'_ Kitty read it to herself silently, having to look at it twice before she realised that Pyro was indeed not using text-speak and was apparently running the operation from the Brotherhood while Wanda got some rest. Everything was going according to plan.

* * *

Wanda was in her room with a red washcloth over her eyes, taking a moment to recover from the ordeal of healing Remy so as to make him presentable for his date. It had indeed been a long, arduous two days for her, first worrying over Rogue before John had brought the wayward Cajun back to face the music the previous night, then a fitful night's sleep, plagued with nightmares, and then the transportation of said Cajun to the mansion and using her powers more than once – finally only twenty minutes ago to heal the idiot who had caused all the upset. John was with him now, coaching him on details for that evening's entertainment.

She could have done without Remy's taking her date, but she had realised that she'd make sacrifices for him and Rogue long ago, so she could easily get over it after John's promise to come up with another date for the two of them. And it wasn't as if she had all that much energy to spare to be upset over something so trivial. Now all she was miffed over was that she didn't have a handsome Aussie to cuddle up to in her hour of weakness. He made an excellent pillow.

She felt herself slip into a light doze and welcomed it. She had really overdone it the other day, destroying that hateful prison that had shackled her and stolen so much from her since the day she had been incarcerated there. For all she now felt a deep sense of peace at the thought that it was erased from the face of the earth, that she had cast it into ruins the same way her life had been since the moment she had set foot in the place, Pietro's reaction and the subsequent fatigue from such emotion and usage of her powers had cast a shadow over her mind and she felt incredibly tired.

The boys were all being so helpful towards her, helping around the house and making sure she was alright every five minutes, but in the end what she longed for was peace and quiet and maybe some alone time with John. She wanted to build her future from here, come to terms with the hatred that still coursed through her at the thought of her father, out there somewhere, alive and unpunished for his transgressions against his children, and she knew that with the lengths John had already gone to for and with her, he was the one to talk it over with. He understood her so much more than anyone she had ever met before, felt her on a plane that she wasn't certain was for the average human.

Agatha had once said that there were as many planes and states of being and feeling as there were humans and their connections with others, and a few more that were unreachable to most but still existed seperate from the rest of them. Wanda was almost certain that the level of communication between her and John, the understanding between them, must be based on such a plane, untouchable to anyone but them, certainly not understandable to anyone outside the two of them, and in a strange way, she felt the same connection between Rogue and Remy, although she felt only the energy and was not a part of it.

Pietro couldn't hope to ever understand that sort of bond, the one they themselves had shared as children, that Wanda now had the training necessary to identify and mourn the loss of. He hadn't the fine-tuning to sense just how lost it was, how futile it was that he attempted to rebuild it when the foundations were so corrupted. Her hatred and fear, and his intolerance and inability to open himself to the parts of her that were not as those she had had as a child contributed to the continued erosion of their bond and he was blind to it.

She loved her brother. They had formed out of one, as one, and to some extent they always would be connected, but everything had conspired to tear them apart and now it seemed as though they could never be reconciled. She wanted more than anything to be able to feel Pietro on the same deep, safe level she felt Rogue or Kitty on, perhaps even to share something with him as special as what she shared with John, to be one half of a whole again with him, the way they had once been, but to reach that stage he would have to accept her the way she was now, and he seemed unable to do so...

Oh, he _said_ that he blamed John for corrupting her, leading her astray, but it wasn't what he _felt_. She knew him well enough still to see that his real anger lay in helplessness, the knowledge that it wasn't some external influence that led her to act or feel as she did, but her own impulses, caused by the crimes he had been unable to prevent, done to her all that time ago. She saw how his guilt warred with the image he still had of her as the innocent child he had lost, how he longed to hold onto that because if he accepted what she was now, he would have to really _see_ the scars he had had a part in inflicting upon her.

She knew that she was not so innocent now. She felt the anger, felt the all-encompassing hatred that before had blinded her to life, to _living_, and she felt also the old despair that still threatened to engulf her at times even though she knew herself to be safe now. She knew that inside, she was very different to the little girl that had once chased Pietro around the house to get her dolls back, so very different from the loving sister that had patched him up with Superman band-aids when he moved faster than he had the sense to control yet and banged into things. But she still loved him, and she wanted him to see that beyond the repulsion she saw in his eyes when he looked at her. The guilt.

After all... if she could look at him and wish for their futures to be connected in love when he so reminded her of the one who had so very nearly destroyed her completely for such little reason, could he not accept the differences in her and embrace her as the twin she still was?

In the periphery of her conciousness, she felt the warm hand on her cheek, heard the assurance that all was taken care of, that she was loved and safe, and she smiled and sighed at the clarity of her knowledge that it was indeed true. Sleep overtook her without further preamble, and she slipped into it to dreams instead of nightmares, something that was quickly becoming the rule rather than the exception.

* * *

Remy LeBeau had seen a lot of women in his time. He'd seen stunners, mingers, total babes and average women striving towards the exceptional. But never had he seen anything as beautiful as Rogue. Descending the stairs like a vision in black, green eyes flashing as they flickered over him only to be obscured by errant snow-white bangs again – just the way he liked them...

She paused on the second-last stair and put her hands on her hips. His heart almost gave out at the way her lips curved into that oh-so-special smile.

"Well...?" she asked, the sparkle in her eyes and the tease behind the accent going straight to his head.

His courage nearly failed him until he noticed that for all she was looking radiant, there was a shadowy pink flush in her cheeks that denoted that special kind of shyness only good girls had it in them to display.

"_Chere_, y' look... well, y' _tres belle_," he said honestly, taking her hand as she stepped that little bit closer to him with a coy smile.

"That's the ahdea, sugah. Ya promised me a date, so here Ah got mahself all dolled up an' ready ta go. Where we goin'?" Her Southern drawl ate away at his restraint but he bit back the ungentlemanly impulse to suggest they – ahem – _stay in_ – and instead gave her another long, appreciative look.

"Somewhere nice, _chere_. Like I promised. Good ting y' Mississippi _filles_ clean up good," he remarked, leading her outside, and she shoved him playfully before he could wrap an arm around her waist and pull her against him, glowing eyes taking her in as though he couldn't tear them away – which in truth, he really couldn't.

"Lahke y' ever had any doubts that we do!" she said huffily, but her smile was brilliant and he knew he was still on the safe side when she added,

"Ya jus' remember what's at stake here, Swamp Rat. Less o' the wise-crackin'," and then pulled away from him and swayed towards where his bike was parked.

"Got mah helmet?" she asked, and he presented it to her gallantly, watching with some covert fascination as she tucked her hair away under it in that strangely feminine way that all girls had about them when they needed it. He stifled a wistful sigh and she gave him a funny look.

"Y' starin' at me sugah..." she said slowly, and he grinned at her and got on, holding out his hand to help her on behind him, but she declined it and did it herself.

"Hold on tight, _chere_," he mumbled, and she settled against his back and laughed quietly.

"You jus' focus on drivin', honey – Ah'll take care of the rest jus' fahne on mah own..."

* * *

She realised why he'd specified boots but otherwise had no real suggestions as to her dressing when she recognised the route they were taking along the seafront that led to nowhere in particular that she knew of. If there was nothing out here, then it was unlikely that he was taking her to some fancy restaurant or anything like that. Which led her to the perpetual question of where exactly the hell he _was_ taking her.

It wasn't that she didn't trust him. She trusted him to know what was good for him and not try anything stupid or anything too out-there, but right now all she could say for sure was that geographically they were pretty out-_somewhere_ and she suspected strongly that he was indeed trying something, being the Cajun idiot he was.

She hadn't expected much from him in his current state, although she had meant what she'd said earlier – in the strangeness of circumstances lately she'd been far too lenient with how their relationship was progressing. She was a lady and expected to be treated as such. She wanted to be taken out properly, shown off, _dated_, for lack of a better word.

So when he pulled up on the side of the road and helped her disembark, she was disappointed to say the least.

"There's nothin' here, Swamp Rat," she said, a hint of hell to come in her voice, but all he did was pull the bike behind a bush and then return his attention to her, taking her hand and leading her deep into the shrubbery.

"Ah swear, if this is some kinda trick you are gonna be – "

"_Chere_, d' y' trust me?" He asked suddenly, cutting through her burgeoning tirade and placing a tender hand on her cheek. Dumb with feeling, she just nodded, and the light in his eyes pulsed softly with emotion.

"Den let me lead y'," he said quietly, leaning in to brush a quick but sweet kiss against her lips, and she let him pull her forwards through the low-hanging branches and the grass swishing against her boots. When he pulled aside a thickly-leafed branch and she stepped past him at his beckoning, she was assaulted twice over by the heavy, sweet scent of home and the view of a full, luminous moon hanging in the heavens like an irregular teardrop from the eyes of God himself, illuminating the sea and making it spark and hum with the frenetic energy of nature beneath them. The overhang was enclosed and thick with sweet-blooming plants, most of which Rogue had never seen yet in this well-groomed or else plant-less state. Weeds, wild and choking and heavy with flowers that she recalled from her youth. It was beautiful. It was like coming home, if she closed her eyes and heard the water below them she could imagine the river, and with the wind carrying away from them, all she could smell was the pleasantly oppressive scent of the organic paradise around them, free of the salty tang of the ocean.

She turned to Remy, who had spread out his coat on the grass and was watching her take it all in with a pleased expression on his face. She felt tears threaten to overcome her but fought them down hard and threw herself into his arms instead.

"Oh, Remy, it's beautiful – Ah couldn' 'ave imagined – _here_, of all places – how did you – ?"

He embraced her and inhaled deeply before speaking to her, his voice soft and deep and emphasising the sense of being back home again. The syrupy gravel of Cajun phrasings dripped from his tongue and eased her into uneasy bliss, so she listened with her eyes turned to the sky and her lips pressed to his shoulder.

"Johnny camped out here once, mentioned it t' Remy, an Remy t'ought his _belle chere_ migh' enjoy de atmosphere here more dan some _restaurant,_ _non?_ Y' like it Rogue?"

* * *

It seemed his Rogue did indeed like it, because he found himself lying on his trench coat with her in his arms, his hands stroking back her beautiful hair while she whispered sweet Southern somethings in his ear and he let his empathy run rife, drowning in every aspect of her, from emotions to the scent of magnolias that clung to her skin and made him feel ill with need.

Remy LeBeau was very much a part of the instant gratification generation, it was such an ingrained aspect of his personality that he had to restrain himself with some effort from rolling out his lady-killer act and spoiling the moment. His Rogue was a real woman, not some floosy, and she'd only hate him for pulling that kind of move on her when he'd gone to such pains to emphasise that she could trust him. But still, he couldn't deny the fact that it was frustrating to be in the perfect place at the right time with the woman he loved more than his own life and have to be content with just lying with her. He'd just have to get used to moderating his desires to suit her pace.

She tipped back her head to look at the stars again and he let one gloved finger slide over the contours of her glowing white throat, lost in the feel of her and wishing he could see the rest of her glowing in the moonlight. He deluded himself that if he could have that he wouldn't need to touch her, but reality touched down in his head and reminded him who he was and that if he could have that, he'd want something else pretty quickly afterwards. He wouldn't call himself a patient man.

She was talking, and he listened with half an ear, drinking her in, but he was brought back to the land of the doghouse-confined when she narrowed her eyes and said,

"Y'aren't listenin' to a damn word Ah say, are ya?"

He had the grace to feel guilty, and the prescence of mind to make sure he looked it.

"_Desolé, chere_, 's been a long day an' nigh' an' y' looked so _belle_ Remy lost his head dere f' _un moment_…" he mumbled, and she huffed, blowing errant locks of hair out of her face.

"Ya know, you're not exactly stupid, Swamp Rat, but there sure are tahmes when y' seem ta be operatin' on a much lower level than Ah personally think is enough," she opined, and he shrugged. He couldn't feel insulted when it was probably true.

"Dey say love makes y' blind, _chere_. Makes Remy stupid, apparen'ly," he said, with little concern for the admission of his own blatant lack of intelligence whenever she was around him, and she pulled a face.

"Oh, great – so Ah'm saddled with a great lump of a Cajun who can' string t'gether two words t' say to meh because he's too lovesick ta think?" she grumbled, and he had to smile.

"_Non, ma chere_, Remy jus' put in a li'l more effort t' lis'en, _hein?_ Or maybe he stop takin' y' t' beautiful places so y' won' be extra distractin'. Maybe Remy wear a blin'fold round his _chere_ from now on so he can keep up wit' de conversation," he teased, and she wrinkled her nose at the thought.

"Urgh! Don't you dare do any such thang, y' hear?"

"An' why not?"

"'Cause them eyes are way too pretty ta go coverin' up, even if they do belong ta some gumbo-eatin' Swamp Rat," she shot back, her own eyes wide and green and sparkling. Remy felt like his heart would go bursting right out of his chest if she kept looking at him with those eyes, even if he wasn't much of a poet.

"Remy glad y' like 'em, _chere_…" he said quietly, gathering her to him and holding her, feeling her pleasure at being held as acutely as if it had been his own. He supposed in a way, Rogue's pleasure was his own, or at least the two coincided in such a way as to make it almost so. He was happy if she was happy. And she was happy so long as he didn't screw up. Lord only knew how long that would last, though…

"What's wrong?" she asked suddenly, and he looked up into her lovely face, the painted lips pursed in concern.

"Jus' tinkin', _chere_, don' worry," he reassured her, but Rogue was Rogue, and she had a rightly suspicious mind when it came to him.

"Ah do worry. Don' tell me when Ah can an' can't worry. What's wrong?" She'd see right through any attempts at evasion, he knew that as surely as he knew they were brushing up against another argument if he didn't come clean with her, so he gently shifted her off his chest and propped himself up on his elbow to talk to her. Hell, he'd never done so much talking to one woman in all his life, bar perhaps his Tante Mattie, and family didn't count. Rogue mirrored his gesture and awaited his explanation.

"Remy tinkin' 'bou' de future, _chere_. 'Bou' y' an' moi, what y' migh' want later on in life, how Remy gon' figure in any plans you migh' have, whet'er or no' he gon' be able t' give y' de life y' deserve..." It was a sketchy outline of the truth, but he wouldn't go into detail about any of this unless pressed. Some things he'd only part with under heavy interrogation from her side. She seemed to take it in and then said,

"Raght."

And that was it. She rolled onto her back, looking up at the sky, and left him waiting for the prompting or the demand for more information in vain. After two minutes, he couldn't take it any longer.

"Dat's it? No questions? Notin'?" he asked incredulously, and she shrugged, and said,

"Ah don' need t' know any more. 's enough knowing y' think about these thangs. Ah don' need proposals or promises raght now – Ah jus' wanna be young and see how this goes. What were you expectin'?"

He sat up and threw out his arms expansively in a fit of Southern melodramatics.

"_Je ne sais pas! _Anytin'! _Plus_ _de questions, curiosité, quelque chose, peu vaut mieux que rien!_ Sometin' more dan dis!"

"Ah don' know why ya can' just enjoy what we have raght now, " she said, a hint of anger creeping into her tone, and he made a derisive noise.

"Because I know y', Rogue. Y' ain' dat easy. Dere's always more t' everytin', an' I been cut down tinkin' tings were alrigh' as dey were wit' y' before. Remy ain' gon' make dat mistake anymore."

"Well then let me educate you in the ways of the Rogue, Swamp Rat. Ah am just another girl who hasn' had the best start in lahfe an who hasn' had a whole lotta reasons to trust people. Ah wanna enjoy bein' young and feelin' what ah feel while Ah still have that opportunity. Ah don' wanna go makin' plans an' talkin' about the future lahke Kitty does, because mah future's not a sure thang. Ah've learnt that the hard way. So for once, Ah wanna live in the moment. Is that so hard t' understand?"

She was angry underneath the reasonable explanation, and he felt the emotion pouring off her in spiky, hostile waves. It wasn't that he couldn't understand where she was coming from, it just didn't seem like the way she usually handled things, and any shift in her patterns alarmed him. And when Remy was uncomfortable or in a situation he didn't know how to or if he could control, he reacted badly.

"_Chere_, I get what y' sayin' t' _moi_, but I jus'… I wan' t' make plans. I'm not a man f' dat sorta ting, but wit' y'… I ain' goin' nowhere. Remy ain' gon' leave y', _chere_. An I tink you an' I we have as much righ' as anyone t' plan a future, maybe even t'gether, _non?_ Y' don' have t' agree, 'm jus' sayin' – why be scared o' makin' plans when y' young? Y' can change 'em anytime…"

He tried to form the words so as not to anger her again, so as not to slip up and trigger yet another no-go impulse that would dig an even deeper grave for him in the end, but at the same time, his own argumentative nature compelled him to be insistent. He wanted her to see that she could do whatever she wanted as long as she didn't hide from herself or the fact that she was entitled to live her life, to have what everyone else had. To deny herself the fleeting pleasure of life, such as planning for the future or wishing or dreaming, was just unfair. She had as much right to those things as anyone else. Perhaps more.

She shrugged, turned her eyes to the heavens again, but her gloved hand found it's way into his, and he held it as tightly as he dared.


End file.
